The Cavalier Incident
by Admiral
Summary: The Common Man Project continues, but old enemies complicate Enterprise's role.
1. Teaser

**DISCLAIMER:** _Star Trek and all related characters are the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc and CBS-Paramount Television. No copyright infringement is intended. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. The original characters and events are the sole property of the author and may not be used without permission._

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **The next episode in the series of Star Trek stories told my way.

**STAR TREK:**

**THE CAVALIER INCIDENT**

**By Darrin Colbourne**

* * *

Its official name was the Close Support Weapon System, but it was known to the Fleet's plane crews as "See-Saws", a nickname derived from the acronym CSWS. It was a marriage of two technologies, the old-style Vulcan cannon and modern high-energy physics. Three large-caliber particle cannons were clustered together with a large power pack and an electro-optical targeting system in a black, rectangular housing. With the cannons rigged to fire in sequence, See-Saws was capable of firing nearly a thousand shots per minute. When mounted on either side of a Cavalier Tactical Support Craft, it allowed the pilot to provide devastating close air support for Lander Forces conducting operations on the surfaces of planets, or to tear apart enemy smallcraft, even the shielded ones.

Isabel Montoya had learned about the See-Saws - and other weapons carried by the Cavalier - from the technical manual lent to her by Brigid Silas. It was an education she felt she needed, since the tactical spacecraft would play a central role in her survey of the world the USS _Enterprise_ was currently orbiting. Still, she hadn't actually seen the weapon until she discovered one mounted on each weapon pylon of Silas's craft, and she found herself staring at this one in awe, fascinated by how much killing power had been crammed into such a relatively compact device.

"Isabel." Silas said. Montoya turned to look. The tactical pilot was standing a few feet away, inspecting the starboard Warp engine. "The point of a walkaround is to walk all the way around the ship to look for problems. There's nothing wrong with that See-Saws."

Montoya looked back at the weapon. "I guess you're right. I'm probably just a little uneasy knowing they're there." She forced herself to turn away and catch up with Silas.

"Having second thoughts?" Silas asked as they walked down the length of the Warp engine together.

"No." Montoya said. "Just uneasy, like I said. Besides, I don't suppose you'd take the guns off if I asked."

"Can't. No tactical craft leaves the mothership unarmed. It's a rule."

"Why doesn't the same rule apply to the transports?"

Silas smiled as she started to inspect the tail boom. "Because transport pilots have armed _tactical_ pilots to protect them." This elicited a few chuckles from Silas's plane crew, who were observing as she did her walkaround. Montoya just shook her head and watched quietly as Silas completed her inspection, checking the countermeasures launch tubes, tail running lights and the starboard stabilator. "Looks good, Chief."

"Thank you, Sir." The Plane Captain said. "All right, guys. Let's get this ship onto the Flight Deck."

Silas and Montoya stepped away as a small tractor towed the Cavalier through to the Flight Deck. The officers followed a second later, checking their flight suits as they went. Montoya had to admit that the suit was actually more comfortable to wear than it looked. She'd expected the life-support equipment built into it to make it awkward, but it was surprisingly light and flexible.

The Cavalier was positioned for launch in a few minutes. The plane crew helped Silas and Montoya into the cockpit and handed them their helmets. Montoya was in the back seat, where the Weapons Systems Officer normally sat, and she hesitated for a second as she stared at the controls. There was a world of difference between seeing them in diagrams on a page and sitting in the middle of them.

It was as if Silas had read her mind. "Remember what we talked about." She said. "I have control of the craft, we won't need any of the sensors up and running and the guns are essentially point and shoot, so all you have to do is sit back there and enjoy the show…"

"…and don't touch anything." Montoya finished the thought.

Silas smiled. "Smart Girl." She said, then they both put their helmets on. They did radio checks when the canopy was closed and the interior was pressurized, then the plane crew trotted back to the Hangar Deck with a thumbs-up from Silas. She turned on primary power as the Flight Deck was sealed and depressurized, then radioed the ship. "Prize, Rider One, we are go for launch."

"Roger that, Rider One." Both women heard. "Opening access doors, and you may sortie your ship."

Montoya thought that Silas would wait for the doors to open fully before she lifted off, so she was surprised when the Cavalier rose off the deck a second later and slid sideways until it was over the access to space. Silas descended just as suddenly, just barely clearing the inner doors as they slid into their recesses and passing the outer doors while they were still folding open. The rapid drop drew Montoya's gaze upward, giving her a spectacular view of _Enterprise_'s underside as it receded. When she could see the whole ship she turned her attention forward. Any lingering doubts she might have had disappeared in that moment.

The dayside of Shiva Three hung right in the center of her field of view. Riding high in the back seat let her see the entire globe and made her feel as if she were floating through space on her own. It was a much better view than she could ever have gotten from the cockpit of a transport, and the heavy concentration of nitrogen and methane in Shiva Three's atmosphere and its wildly overgrown land masses meant that a smallcraft was the best way to get a close first look. Silas had convinced Montoya that the Cavalier was the better choice for the job, and she'd been right.

Montoya was so engrossed in the view she was startled when she noticed the planet was expanding in her vision. "Prize, Rider One is proceeding to station." Silas said.

"Roger that, Rider One." The Communications Officer said.

* * *

Captain Christopher Pike had the watch in the Control Room. He sat comfortably in the center seat and gazed idly at the main viewer as it showed Rider One streaking toward the planet. He was only slightly ashamed to be glad his Science Officer was conducting this survey from inside a fast, well-armed spacecraft. All the better to fight or run, whichever became necessary, and with Silas at the controls Montoya was in no position to balk either way. He made a mental note to work on making the entire mission go like this.

"Captain, New Contact, bearing 260 by 32, estimate range 130,000 kilometers." The Sensor Officer said.

Pike sighed. So much for an uneventful survey. "Nature of contact?"

"Thermal transient. Too brief for heading and speed estimates."

"Any other contacts?"

"No, Sir. I read only the bodies of the system. The tactical probe hasn't seen anything on the dark side."

"Okay, what do you think it was?"

"Sir, if I didn't know any better, I'd say it was a split-second sub-light engine burn."

Pike looked at the data on the Sensor repeater screen, then said: "Goren, are you sure there's no spacefaring civilization in this system?"

He was addressing Lieutenant Ben Goren, who was manning the Science Station. "Positive." He said. "The only planet capable of bearing life is Shiva Three, and the place is just a giant swamp. The most intelligent life down there is still living in the trees or in the oceans."

"So we've got a possible spaceship where there aren't supposed to be any spaceships but ours…unless there's some natural phenomenon nearby that might have touched off our sensors…"

"Nothing that you'd actually mistake for a sub-light burn, Sir."

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that." Pike rubbed his chin and muttered: "Montoya is gonna kill me." Then said clearly: "Sensors, increase sensitivity on the passive systems. Bring the Main Sensor to full power and set to 'Standby', and get the probe on the far side of the area of contact. Helm, turn us bow-on to the area of contact. Communicator, recall Rider One. Have her get above the contact and stand by for bi-static scan and visual identification."

* * *

"Rider One, Prize," Silas and Montoya heard, "stand down from survey mission and take station above possible low-observable contact bearing 260 by 32 our position. Stand by to VID track via bistatic scan."

"Roger, copy that, Prize." Silas said. "Rider One is proceeding to new station."

Montoya lowered her head and groaned as Silas increased speed to swing around the planet. "So near and yet so far."

Silas chuckled. "Isabel, the planet's not going anywhere. We'll probably be right back. _Enterprise_ is just worried there's a cloaked ship off to her port and wants to do a thorough check."

"Why not send the tactical probe?"

"They are. The probe's going to flank the target. We're going to get above it. You know how a bistatic scan works?"

"The whole point of cloaking technology is to deflect or jam the return energy of an active scan so that the receivers on the ship doing the scanning think there's nothing there, but the deflected energy has to go somewhere, so if you set one or more receivers in areas you think the energy might go, you can still detect the ship."

"That's right, and we've been elected to receive. Now, remember when I said don't touch anything?"

"Yeah?"

"Now I need you to touch something. Under your right arm there are two rows of white contacts. There's one in the top row marked 'ALPS', and one in the bottom row marked 'CTP'. See 'em?"

"I see them."

"Press ALPS first, then CTP."

Montoya did as instructed, switching on the Cavalier's passive sensors and giving control of them to Silas. They continued on in silence until Silas had the ship stationed over the target area. "Prize, Rider One is in position."

"Roger." Came the reply. Then there was silence for a few seconds, then a soft beeping alerted Montoya to an image forming on the multi-function display in front of her. The Cavalier's combat data systems were forming a target image based on the energies picked up on the passive systems and comparing it to known images in its database. When the beeping changed to a steady tone, it was an indication that a match had been found.

Montoya gawked at the attached picture and list of specifications. "That can't be." She said.

"Oh, but it is." Silas said. She was looking at the same picture. "Rider One to Prize, ID track as _Kahless_-class Battle Cruiser, running cloaked and drifting. Awaiting tasking, over."

As soon as she was done talking, the space ahead of her erupted in a burst of light. It started out a rainbow, with the colors shifting from red through violet before settling down into a more definitive shape. When it was fully visible, Silas found that she was hovering over the ship's slender access shaft, halfway between the mace-like Command Section and the glider-like Support Section.

It was the closest she'd been to a Klingon warship in years…and she'd never had a cleaner shot.


	2. Act One

**DISCLAIMER:** _Star Trek and all related characters are the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc and CBS-Paramount Television. No copyright infringement is intended. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. The original characters and events are the sole property of the author and may not be used without permission._

**STAR TREK:**

**THE CAVALIER INCIDENT**

**By Darrin Colbourne**

* * *

Captain Koloth, Commanding Officer of the Imperial Klingon Ship _Martok_, drummed his fingers on the arm of his command chair and sighed as he regarded the incompetent sitting before him. "Pilot, exactly what part of the order 'No unnecessary course corrections' did you have trouble comprehending?"

The helmsman didn't dare turn to face him. He simply bowed his head and answered. "Forgive me, Sir, but when the Humans launched their tactical craft, I thought--"

"Aha!" Koloth broke in. "Now we get to the crux of the problem! You _thought_! You engaged that skull full of _gakh_ you call a brain in an activity that it was obviously not designed for, and as a result, instead of going wherever it was supposed to go, the Human tactical craft is at our backs!" Koloth stood then, clasped his hands behind his back and started walking at a slow pace to the Flight Control station. As he approached, he continued his rebuke in a more even tone. "I admit, Pilot, that I expected the Humans to find us here eventually, but I am dismayed that one of my own officers seems so willing to do all their work for them."

"Forgive me, Sir. It won't happen again!" It was all the Pilot could say as he felt the captain come up behind him.

"I know it won't," Koloth said, "because I know what needs to happen now. You see, the problem with thinking is that doing it too much tends to make one, oh, _jittery_. You need to learn patience. Thirty days confinement with basic rations should be sufficient to teach the lesson."

"But, Sir…" The Pilot began. This time he was interrupted by his head being pulled back by the hair and the feel of a blade at his throat.

"Or," Koloth said, as he dug the edge of his dagger into his subordinates skin, "perhaps a simpler solution is in order…"

"No, Sir!" The Pilot gasped. "Thirty days confinement will be sufficient! I will learn my lesson, Sir!"

"I'll hold you to that." Koloth said, then released him. "Your instruction begins now. Master-At-Arms, take him away."

The massive Guardsman standing at the entrance to the control room stalked over to the Pilot and pulled him out of his chair, then half-dragged him out of the room. Koloth sheathed his dagger and returned to the command chair as a relief pilot took over the helm. When he was settled, Koloth's gaze fixed on the main viewscreen. The _Enterprise_ was dead center in the view, pointed right at him.

"Sir," another officer called out, "the Humans are hailing us."

"Of course." Koloth grumbled. "They want to talk." He hated talking with Humans, for aesthetic reasons more than anything else. Doing it required that he use their common language, English, an overly-ordered, passionless dialect that lacked the art and fire of Proper Klingon. The problem was that he'd never met a Human that could speak Proper Klingon without embarrassing himself, so Koloth simply found it easier - and less grating - to deal with them on their own terms. "Very Well. Ship-to-Ship, on the viewer."

* * *

"They're answering hail." The Communications Officer said. "Requesting ship-to-ship on audio and video."

"On the screen." Pike said, nodding toward the main viewer. A moment later, the image of the Klingon ship's broadside was replaced with a head-and-shoulders shot of a swarthy, muscular man with long, black hair and an overgrown goatee and eyebrows. The lighting on the Klingon bridge lent the man a sinister air, but Pike knew from experience that this was psychological warfare on the Klingons' part, a tactic they'd adopted when they learned of their Human adversaries' almost habitual desire to see their enemies face-to-face. "Better to intimidate your opponent right from the start," was the philosophy behind it.

The Klingon recognized Pike from numerous intelligence briefings. "Captain Christopher Pike." He said with a smile that bared large canines. "A pleasure to meet you at last."

Pike had similar intelligence on his opponent. "Captain Koloth." He said, with a broad, phony smile of his own. "Likewise, I'm sure. However, I am rather surprised to meet you in this neck of the woods. Are you lost? Can I give you some help getting back to Imperial space?"

"I'm shocked by your tone, Captain Pike. Is uncharted space not free for the transit of all ships? Have I not as much right to be here as you? Or, have you claimed this system in the name of your vaunted United Earth?"

"We've staked no claim here, Koloth. We're on a survey mission, as I'm sure you know."

"Yes, of course. So you are, and that is actually why I'm here, Pike."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. You see, our scientists have evaluated your assignment and have concluded that such a grand undertaking is simply too ambitious for such a small collection of ships - even ones as capable as _Constitution_-class ships - and it was on the basis of their report that our Glorious Emperor dispatched my ship and several others to observe your ships during the course of the mission and to…lend assistance should the need arise - all in the interest of our continued peaceful co-existence, of course."

"Of course." Pike said. "Well, allow me to express my gratitude - and that of my people - for the Emperor's generosity, but I feel I must warn you: Our experiences at the start of the mission were a stark reminder of the unknown dangers our survey might force us to confront, and I wouldn't want the Klingon Armada's finest ships to take on any unnecessary risk."

Koloth's smile grew wider. "Oh…I wouldn't worry about our ships, Pike." He glanced away for a moment to give someone an order in Klingon, then turned back and waited patiently.

"Captain!" The Sensor Officer called out. "New contact, aft quarter, high! Range 1.4 light-seconds and closing! ID as Klingon Raptor! She just appeared out of nowhere, Sir!"

Pike turned to the repeater over the Sensor station. The Raptor was a one-man version of the Klingon Bird-Of-Prey frigate. The smaller vessel was usually deployed as a tactical support craft aboard the _Kahless_ cruisers. This one must have approached the _Enterprise_ by stealth and decloaked on Koloth's cue. From what Pike could see there were two anti-shipping torpedoes slung under the Raptor's wings, and for those weapons, a little over a light-second was point-blank range.

Koloth's next words drew Pike's attention back to the main screen. "As you can see, Pike, we are quite capable of taking care of ourselves."

Pike's mouth twisted up for a split-second, then he forced the phony smile back on his face. "So I see." He said.

"Good! It is settled, then. We will survey this world together!"

"I look forward to it."

"Now, there is just one more thing that concerns me: having our tactical craft deployed as they currently are might well lead to an unfortunate mishap. I would suggest we do something about that."

Pike regarded the screen for a second, then glanced at the Communicator. "Have Rider One return to station." He said quietly.

The Communicator nodded, then radioed to Silas: "Rider One, Prize. Stand down and return to station, over." A pause, then: "Rider One copies."

Pike turned back to the screen. Someone off-screen reported something to Koloth, who gave another order in Klingon. A few seconds after he turned back to Pike, the Sensor Officer reported: "Captain, the Raptor is breaking off and turning away. Looks like he's returning to base."

Koloth offered one last broad smile. "Now that that's settled, Captain Pike, I will let you get back to your survey. Koloth out." The screen reverted to the view of the _Martok_ as the Klingons signed off.

There were a few moments of silence in Control, then Goren blurted out: "Well. That was all kinds of fun." He'd been glaring wide-eyed at the main viewer the whole time.

"Just business as usual, Lieutenant," Pike said, "in this era of _peace_. Fire Control, I want a constantly-updated firing solution set up on our Klingon 'observers.' Communicator, have Flight Ops arm Rider Two with Mark-18s and bring it up to Alert-5 status…just in case."

Similar preparations were being made in _Martok_'s Control Room. After the Tactical and Attack Ship Bay officers acknowledged Koloth's orders, his First Officer, Commander Jhang, approached him. "If this is truly an illegal expansion," he said, "the Earthers will go to great lengths to maintain their cover."

"I would expect nothing less." Koloth said. "Go meet SubCommander Toro when he comes aboard. Bring him to my quarters."

"You have a mission for him?"

"Two, actually. First, while Pilot Khan is incarcerated it will be up to Toro to tutor him on the _proper_ way to navigate a cloaked vessel in the vicinity of the enemy. The other mission I wish to discuss with both of you in detail."

* * *

"See? I told you we'd be going right back." Silas said as she steered the Cavalier back toward Shiva Three.

Montoya barely heard her. The Science Officer's attention was on the view in one of the old-fashioned rearview mirrors built into the canopy. She watched in awe as the Klingon ship receded in the distance. "Why are they even here?" She wondered aloud.

"Business as usual." Silas said. "They shadow our ships, we shadow theirs. They goose us, we goose them. It's how both sides keep in practice. I do wonder how they knew where to look for us, though. Once we warped out of the Solar System our route would have been anybody's guess."

Montoya turned her attention forward as she answered. "That's probably our fault."

"Our fault?"

"I mean the Space Probe Agency."

"The Space Probe Agency gave our itinerary to the Klingons?"

"Not directly…have you ever visited the UESPA's WorldNet site?"

"No. What's there?"

"Almost anything you'd want to know about the Common Man Project, including the initial list of worlds the ships of our squadron are visiting. It doesn't say which ships are going to which worlds, but all the planets that could be observed from Earth are there, and the data that accompanies them is updated as the agency receives our reports."

"So all the Klingons would have to do is visit the site, look over the list and pick a planet?"

"Well, if they wanted to ambush us, I suppose they could simply go to a planet whose data hasn't been updated yet and wait."

There was silence in the cockpit for about five seconds, then Silas chuckled. "Man. You people know _jack_ about mission security!"

"Brigid, it's a public relations tool. You know, 'Have your kids follow the progress of Project: Away', 'Use it as a teaching tool in your class', that sort of thing. Besides, this mission isn't supposed to be a secret."

"No, but it ought to be _secure_, don't you think? You've got a lot to learn, Smart Girl."

"But it's a scientific mission! There's no reason for the Klingons to want to ambush us. It's the last thing any of us would have expected."

"And yet, here they are. The enemy rarely does what you expect him to do. That's your first lesson."

"They're not our enemy." Montoya said feebly.

"Just because they're not currently shooting at us doesn't mean they're not our enemy. That's your next lesson."

Montoya decided that she could only dig a deeper hole for her agency the more she tried to defend it, so they continued on to the planet in silence. Silas preferred it that way. As good a pilot as she was, she didn't want to risk being distracted when she entered the planet's atmosphere. She pulled into low orbit and bled off speed, shifting her orbital inclination as she went. When she was nearly skirting the equator and sure she would end up over the right point, she angled the Cavalier's nose up and slowed for re-entry.

"Here comes the fun part, Isabel." Silas said. "Hang on."

Montoya grabbed on to the straps of her restraints and held tight, preparing herself for what had to be the worst elevator ride ever created by Man. Even miracle technologies like grav-plating and inertial dampers operating at full power couldn't completely cancel out the effects of descent. The Cavalier's inertia-canceling systems only operated in a limited fashion, just enough to protect the crews during high sub-light combat maneuvers. During descent they weren't used at all, so suddenly more than two centuries of scientific advance were rendered meaningless as the ship slammed into the thickening air, rattling its passengers like an old-style space capsule. Montoya stared wide-eyed out of the canopy as the air ionized around them, casting the cockpit in a fiery red-orange glow. She prayed silently that the transparent material above their heads would survive the trip, even though she knew intellectually that the belly of the Cavalier was bearing the brunt of re-entry friction.

It was the longest four minutes of Montoya's life, but they emerged into clear air without incident. "Prize, Rider One is Feet Hot and on station, over." Silas told _Enterprise_.

"Roger, Rider One." _Enterprise_ said. "Copy you're on station and you may commence Away mission. Prize out."

Silas and Montoya were now on their own. "What would you like to see first?" Silas asked.

Montoya looked around. They were descending slowly through sparse cloud cover and headed toward the widest part of an isthmus that connected Shiva Three's two largest continents. "This area is as good as any to start." She said. "Let's go down and see the local landscape, then we can head East over the ocean. If we're lucky we might catch a glimpse of some of the larger sea life."

"You got it." Silas said, then she snap-rolled the Cavalier 180 degrees and angled the nose toward the surface. Montoya screamed as the ship plunged downward at a lightning pace. The descent only took a few seconds, and just when Montoya thought they would slam into the dense foliage rising to meet them, Silas rolled the ship again and leveled off, slowing to a steady hover.

"Okay, now you're just showing off!" Montoya yelled after she caught her breath.

Silas giggled behind her breath mask. "Yes, I am!" She said. "You all right back there?"

"I'll let you know when my stomach catches up with me!"

"Okay, but while we're waiting, why don't you take a look around?"

Montoya looked outside. They were hovering barely a dozen meters above the treeline of a forest that stretched out to the horizon in every direction. Several of the individual trees looked large enough to swallow the smallcraft whole by themselves, making the whole forest a forbidding No-Man's-Land. Montoya knew from the _Enterprise_'s preliminary scans that below the forest canopy was mostly impassable marshland…impassable for Human Beings, at least. Unfortunately, the Common Man Project had been launched before the Space Probe Agency had been able to acquire a dedicated robotic lander. "How much data can you gather using the Cavalier's systems?"

"Not much. With the passive systems on I can use the camera to get standard and low-light pictures and the infra-red sights on the See-Saws to get thermal images. That's about it."

"What if I turn on the active sensors? Would that help?"

A pause. "It might…but, Isabel, there's a reason why they build these things for two people."

"So that someone else can operate the sensors and let you concentrate on flying?"

"That would be the reason."

"Sorry. The optical images will be fine."

Silas didn't like Montoya's resigned tone. She hadn't meant to completely discourage her. "Look, I know you want to be on-hand for the surface survey…"

"And I want Wendy to see it close-up as well."

"Well, my crews and I can show you two how to work the sensors for yourselves."

"You're sure that won't be too much trouble?"

"We don't have to teach you how to use them in combat. You just need to know enough to get proper scans of the surface. We can show you that pretty quickly."

"Then let's take care of that when we get back." Montoya sounded relieved.

"No problem." Silas said, satisfied. "I'm going to see if I can find a clearing around here where we can get low and take some decent images of the ground." She gave the ship some altitude and started a wide turn over the forest.

* * *

Commander McDonald entered the Control Room from the starboard passage and went straight over to the center chair. "You wanted to see me…" She began. The view on the main screen rendered her speechless.

Pike looked over to her. "Good. You're here. Let's talk in my Ready Room." He turned to the Engineering Section. "John, you too." He called out to Commander Adams, then the three of them made their way to the Captain's Ready Room. Just before they went in Pike turned to the helmsman. "Tyler, you have the conn."

"Aye, Sir. I have the conn." Lieutenant Joseph Tyler acknowledged.

In the Ready Room Pike sat down on the cot, McDonald leaned on the table and Adams leaned against a bulkhead. They waited until the door was fully closed before they began their discussion. "That's a _Kahless_ cruiser, isn't it?" McDonald said, jerking her thumb in the direction of the main screen.

"Yes, it is," Pike said, "so I thought we'd start by letting you get your I-toldja-sos out of the way." He smiled and Adams smiled, and McDonald just shook her head before she launched.

"Well, I _did_ tell you so! This mission was laid on too fast! There was no real preparation past adding some extraneous equipment and quarters before sending us hither and yon, and now we're sharing an orbit with the Opposition and we're saddled with a totally green Second Officer and a passel of officers and crewmen that are just as likely to wet themselves at the sight of a Klingon warship as offer any real support against them if the shooting starts."

"They're not all that green. Lieutenant Goren was right there when we found the Klingons and I didn't notice any major signs of panic coming from him."

"Leftenant Goren has the dubious honor of being the most experienced of the lot. He's at least gone through Basic Training. We should put them all through it."

"Put them through it _where_?" Adams said, incredulous. "Last time I checked this ship was real short on parade grounds and Drill Instructors."

"Major Song's Gunnery Sergeant is a certified D.I. He's just transferred to the Fleet Lander Force from Camp Pace. As for training space, it's simply a matter of using what space we do have judiciously. We're only talking about a company of 24 people."

"And we're talking about taking those 24 people out of the loop and turning the ship upside down for _two months_ so that we can show them how to march in a straight line, salute properly and point a rifle in the right direction. There's nothing 'simple' about that."

"I don't think we need to do anything that drastic," Pike said, "but we ought to run some serious combat drills to get the Science Department's Control Room officers up to speed on our anti-ship doctrine. If there's anything from Basic that they need to learn it's Unarmed Combat and Small Arms Proficiency."

"You think we'll need to take on the Klingons man-to-man?" Adams asked.

"I'm not expecting a full-scale infantry battle, but it's always possible that they can find a way to board us, so the researchers might as well have the same chance to defend themselves that everyone else aboard has."

"I _still_ say they should go through Basic," McDonald muttered, "or they should at least have gone through it before we left spacedock."

"Maybe, but our departure schedule didn't allow for that. I don't pretend to know how Jellico's mind works, but I'm guessing that he expects us to do the best we can with what we have, no matter what situation arises, so if our science people need to learn how to fight, it's our job to show them how."

"You mean it's _my_ job." McDonald said. Pike smiled at her again and nodded. "Very Well. I'll slate the Science Department for firearms and unarmed combat training and work up some anti-ship combat scenarios."

"Good. And John, I want your department doing the usual analysis. Pull the specs on the _Kahless_ class from the intelligence database and go over it with a fine-toothed comb."

"List all the weaknesses we know of and see if we can find anything everybody else missed?" Adams said. Pike nodded. "You got it."

Satisfied, Pike ended the meeting by standing up and heading out of the Ready Room. Adams and McDonald were a step behind him. The two men resumed their stations in Control while Number One went to work out a training schedule and prepare for her watch. "I have the conn." Pike announced.

"Cap'n has the conn." Tyler called out from the helm.

Pike was barely settled into the center seat when the Sensor Officer made another report. "New contact. _Martok_ is launching a Raptor."

Pike turned to the station. "Where's it headed?"

* * *

It wasn't much of a clearing, but Silas did find an area where tree growth was sparse enough to allow the Cavalier to descend below the canopy. She dropped low enough to get good images of the tree trunks, which were a sickly-looking brownish-green. The forest floor was covered with over-sized, black flowers with stamens that reached up into the sky and petals that closed up as the heat of the Cavalier's sub-light engines reached the ground. The small amount of grass that could be seen would have been chest-high on a Human walking through it, if a Human could make his way through the muddy quicksand the grass and flowers were growing in. Montoya looked on intently as Silas recorded the area in as much detail as possible.

"Rider One, Prize." They heard. "Be advised, we are tracking a Raptor - designate Bandit One - approaching your station."

"Copy that, Prize." Silas radioed back. "ETA?"

"Estimate Bandit One will be Feet Hot in six minutes, twenty-three seconds and will be at Angels 20 and 2.7 miles Northeast of your position."

"Copy that. Request instructions."

"You are to maintain Weapons Tight and continue Away mission, over."

"Roger. Maintain Weapons Tight and continue mission. Rider One out."

Montoya listened to the whole conversation with dread. "What do we do?"

"Well," Silas said, "if he gets close enough we can wave at him nicely through the cockpit glass, but other than that, nothing. 'Weapons Tight' means he has to shoot first."

"Do you think that's what he's coming to do?"

"No. It's like I said before. They shadow us, we shadow them. His boss probably just wants a close-up look at what we're doing."

"How sure are you?"

"As sure as I can be. I can't read their minds. It all boils down to whether or not the Klingons feel like restarting the war today, and I'm guessing that if that's what they wanted all they had to do was blast _Enterprise_ while they were still running cloaked. This is an intelligence-gathering mission for them, and since our mission isn't supposed to be a secret we're just going to let them see what they want."

"Well…do we have to sit here and wait until he shows up?"

"Nope! We don't have to do that. You said you wanted to head East over the ocean?"

Montoya consulted her datapad. "Actually, from where we are now it's more Southeast. When we scanned from orbit we spotted some very large shapes that might be aquatic life-forms. I can direct you using the images I have saved on my computer."

"Then let's see some fish." Silas gained altitude vertically, pointed the ship Southeast and sped off over the forest.

"They're more like whales." Montoya said as she watched the forest canopy blur past under them.

"What?" Silas said.

"Whales, not fish. When she saw the shadows we picked up Wendy said they looked like they had flukes."

"Okay, whales. How big are we talking?"

"The biggest ones look to be about four hundred feet."

"Dang! Do whales get that big?"

"They can if they have the run of the planet. Shiva Three is close to ninety percent water. What land mass it has is saturated with the stuff. If there's lots of other things for them to eat in the oceans, and if they have no natural predators, there's no reason why they can't be the dominant lifeform in several ways, size included."

"Okay. You realize, of course, that the optical systems won't see much underwater…"

"True, but if Wendy's right about them being whales then they'll have to come up for air some time. We didn't see it happen while we were observing from orbit, but I'm hoping we'll see it from here if we stay around them long enough."

"Hoping we'll get lucky?"

"It's about patience, not luck. We'll keep looking until we see it happen. If it _doesn't_ happen we'll just go on to the next theory."

"Which would be?"

"Probably that they're creatures that look like whales, but breathe like something else."

"Is that possible?"

Montoya smiled. "If you'd asked me that two months ago I wouldn't have thought so. I have a new philosophy: If we see it with our own eyes, it's possible."

"Might have to dissect one to be sure."

Montoya's smile faded. "I don't want it to come to that. We'd never fit one of the big ones on one of Dr. Boyce's examining tables or on Wendy's dissection table, which means we'd have take one of the babies. I'm not ready to make that call yet."

"And if we see one of them spouting, you don't have to…at least not immediately."

"Right. Even though there are bound to be some biological differences due to their surroundings, Shivan whales ought to have several things in common with Earth whales, so observing how they interact with each other and the environment in general will take precedence over seeing what they're made of."

A pause, then Silas said, "So, we're rooting for whales spouting. I can do that."

* * *

Minutes later, the Klingon Raptor broke into clear air and SubCommander Toro reported back to _Martok_. "This is _Batleth_. I am inside and awaiting vector."

The cruiser's response was immediate. "Acknowledged. Prey is heading One-Zero-Five at 820 _kramm_ and at 9,000 _kelikams_. Turn to One-Six-Seven and close at 10,000 _kelikams_."

"Engage cloak?"

"Negative. Engage Prey as practice target. Weapons and Countermeasures on hold."

"Acknowledged." Toro smiled as he closed the circuit. Asking about his cloaking device was only a formality. Koloth had been perfectly clear in his briefing: Keep the Earthers' tactical craft under surveillance at all times, and make sure its crew knew he was watching. Similar orders would be given to the _Martok_'s other tactical pilots, so that surveillance could be maintained round-the-clock. Koloth believed the constant pressure of being watched by their enemies would force the Humans to make a mistake and reveal their true agenda. Toro didn't know if it would work and didn't care. He simply enjoyed matching wits with his counterparts in Starfleet's Tactical Support Wings. This was mostly entertainment for him, and he intended to make the most of it.

* * *

A loud beeping sounded in Montoya's ear. "What's that?" She asked.

Silas huffed. "Scan warning. Our Klingon friend is saying 'Hi'. He's probably above us. See if you can see him from back there."

Montoya craned her neck and looked all around the sky above the Cavalier. She finally spotted the Raptor directly above them, silhouetted in the bright sunlight. "I see him! He's keeping pace with us!"

"That makes sense. Mr. Klingon is using us for target practice."

"And you're _sure_ he won't really attack us?"

"I'm positive now. If he really wanted to shoot us down he'd be cloaked and riding our blind spot."

"Cloaked _and_ in our blind spot? Isn't that redundant?"

"Only if you assume the cloak would never fail you at a crucial moment. A lot of Klingon pilots have died making that assumption."

"I'm still hearing that beeping."

"He's still scanning us. Sit back." Silas gave Montoya a few seconds to prepare, then rolled right, then hard left, then leveled. A second later the beeping stopped. "He was waiting for us to acknowledge the kill." She said.

Montoya looked up again just in time to spot the Raptor descending rapidly. It stopped when it was at the same altitude and ahead of the Cavalier, then the Klingon slowed until his ship was right next to theirs on their starboard side. He was flying close enough for them to see him silhouetted in the Raptor's tinted cockpit canopy. When he was sure they were looking, he offered them a jaunty wave.

Silas sighed. "Wave at the nice stupid Klingon, Isabel." She said as she returned the gesture. It took a second for Montoya's brain to process what was happening, then she joined in. When they were done exchanging pleasantries the Klingon dropped back to the "wingman" position at the Cavalier's Four O'Clock.

Montoya saw this through the rearview mirror on the starboard side of the canopy. "He's going to stay with us?"

"Well, now _he's_ just showing off." Silas said. "'Look, ma! I can fly in formation too!' Ignore him. Let's get back to work."

Montoya just shook her head and decided to concentrate on things that made sense to her. She consulted her datapad. "We should still be on track." She circled an area on the screen with a stylus. "I want to search an area with a radius of about five miles, something like this." She reached over the back of Silas's chair to hand her the 'pad.

Silas touched the autopilot contact, reached back for the computer and checked the map displayed there against her inertial navigation map. "Okay. We'll conduct the search at 500 feet and in an outward spiral pattern." She handed the 'pad back to Montoya and took the controls again. "It's going to be slow-going. We're essentially tracking these things by eye."

"Like I said before, patience." Montoya sat back and relaxed, taking a second to glance in the mirror again. They should have all the time they needed, unless the Klingons complicated matters, but how could they do that without violating a decade-old cease-fire?

It took another half-hour of travel to reach the search area. Silas dropped to five hundred feet and slowed to 150 knots as she entered the search pattern. Toro stayed right in formation, though it was difficult. It was at the extreme low end of the Raptor's atmospheric flight envelope.

It was now a waiting game, with the Humans conducting one of their normal surface searches and Toro waiting to find out what they were looking for. He was mildly curious. Were they looking for some sign of civilization that wasn't obvious from orbit, like an undersea habitat perhaps? Was it some kind of weapon they sought, or some new, untapped natural resource? Toro didn't believe the Humans' official line about the Common Man Project any more than his superiors did, but sending a fleet of ships blundering all over the galaxy didn't seem like a very effective way to gain any kind of strategic advantage over one's enemies. In fact, it seemed like a very good way to lose a number of useful ships to all manner of misadventures, a circumstance that a smart enemy would find a way to exploit. There had to be more to it, but ultimately Toro wasn't getting paid to read the Humans' minds, so he decided to be patient and simply watch. If their objectives became clear while he was doing so, that would just be the Humans' problem, wouldn't it?

Meanwhile, Silas and Montoya passed the time with intermittent small talk while keeping their eyes peeled and the Cavalier's optics searching for shadows just below the surface of the ocean. They traded anecdotes about their respective hometowns, families and alma maters, but mostly scanned the ocean, waiting for a sign of their quarry.

Silas spotted it first. "I think I see something. Off to port."

Montoya looked that way. "Are you sure?"

"Hang on." Silas slowed the ship down to fifty knots and dropped to almost wave-top level before heading off toward what she thought was a large shadow. The sudden change in her flight profile also had the advantage of forcing the Klingon to make a choice. The Raptor could only fly so low and so slow in the air before it stalled, and it was less maneuverable in a hover than the Cavalier, so its pilot would either need to gain altitude and speed or stand off, but either way he'd be off her wing. Silas smiled as she glimpsed the Raptor speeding off on her right. _Just reminding you that there's a few things I can do that you can't, _she thought at his retreating exhaust, then she sped up. They only had to skim the waves for a few seconds before they passed over something interesting.

"Stop!" Montoya called out. Silas slowed to a relative crawl and came about, then coasted back a bit, coming to a hover over a long shadow in the water. It was headed Northeast as it passed and was roughly cigar-shaped. Silas slipped right and then came alongside, getting into a flanking position on the object's beam.

"The thing's _at least_ four hundred feet long!" Silas said as they watched it chug along. Montoya didn't have a chance to respond, as a second later it sank from their view. Silas slowed to hover again, and both women scanned the surrounding water, trying to get another glimpse at the lifeform.

They got that glimpse just a few seconds before the lifeform emerged from the water with a splash that threatened to swamp the Cavalier. Silas sideslipped again and gained altitude, giving them a close-up view of a massive leviathan. Its body was long and tapered, colored black above and white below, and had the general shape of an outsized blue whale, complete with a powerful fluke at the end. It seemed too large to make such an astonishing leap, but it cleared the surface of the water by about twenty feet before nosing back in, spraying a jet of water from its spout just before its head was submerged.

"Yes!" Montoya cheered, grinning as the whale's body disappeared beneath the waves.

"Looks like Wendy was…" Silas was interrupted by the sight of another giant whale emerging a hundred meters or so to the North. It cleared the water the same way the first one had, took a breath and went back in. The surface was calm for a few seconds after that, then more shadows appeared under them in a cluster stretching Southwest to Northeast, and the shadows ranged in size from twenty feet to more than four hundred. Silas and Montoya watched in awe as these whales broached the surface in turn - more sedately than the first two - and caught breaths of their own.

"There's a whole school of them down there!" Silas said.

"'Pod.'" Montoya corrected.

"What?" Silas said.

"Whales travel in pods. Fish travel in schools."

"Pods, schools…there's a bunch of 'em down there, right?"

Montoya chuckled. "Yes, there are! It's beautiful! We are recording this, aren't we?"

"Absolutely. I'm going to transit over the length of the pod and try and get as much detail as possible before they submerge again." With that, Silas turned Northeast and headed slowly toward where the second whale emerged.

And circling above the entire scene, Toro watched the event in utter confusion. _That can't be what they're looking for,_ he thought. _Don't they already have those on Earth?_


	3. Act Two

**DISCLAIMER:** _Star Trek and all related characters are the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc and CBS-Paramount Television. No copyright infringement is intended. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. The original characters and events are the sole property of the author and may not be used without permission._

**STAR TREK:**

**THE CAVALIER INCIDENT**

**By Darrin Colbourne**

* * *

Lieutenant Gwendolyn Flores decided to welcome Montoya back before getting ready for the Evening Watch, so she was waiting on the Hangar Deck when Rider One was recovered. It didn't take long for the Flight Deck to repressurize and for the access hatch between the decks to open, so Flores walked through and went over to the Cavalier as Silas and Montoya climbed out. "So, how was your joyride?" She asked with a grin when they had their helmets off.

Montoya gave her a scolding look. "It wasn't a joyride." She said.

"Actually Isabel," Silas said, "in military terms, that pretty much _was_ a joyride." She smiled and turned to Flores. "Hey, Wendy."

"Hey, Brigid."

"We've got some great pictures for you. Just have to get 'em downloaded from the ship's databanks. I'll see you later, Smart Girl." She offered Montoya one more smile, then moved off to talk to her Plane Captain.

Meanwhile, Flores followed along as Montoya went through to the Hangar Deck on her way to the squadron locker rooms. "I like her," Flores said, "and she likes _you_. I can tell."

"Stop…" Montoya said, a warning tone in her voice.

"No, really. You just have that way about you. It's that whole 'Damsel in Distress' thing you do."

"I do _not_ do any 'Damsel in Distress' thing!"

"Please, Belle. Tell it to someone who _hasn't _been your best friend since forever. You turn it on and off at will. Like yesterday, you were all 'Oh, look at Shiva Three! It's _sooo_ beautiful and _sooo_ deadly! Won't someone help me explore it?', then Brigid came up and rode you down there in her Faster-Than-Light white horse."

"Look, do you want to know what we saw down there or not?"

"I know exactly what you saw. Whales."

"You were right about those shadows."

"Of course I was right. The nice thing about exobiology is that under the right conditions there's nothing much 'exo' about it. So, give me details."

"You'll be able to see them for yourself. Brigid is going to train us both how to work the sensors in the Cavaliers so that we can do a more thorough survey."

Flores's mood darkened immediately. "Goody. More training."

"_Useful_ training. Training that we can apply to our work and that isn't just about being good little Starfleet Officers."

"Maybe, but we also have more of the other kind of training to go through."

"What do you mean?"

"Guess what The Powers That Be decided while you were gone."

* * *

Montoya hadn't seen many men as large and well-built as Gunnery Sergeant Tom Larkin outside of a professional wrestling league or an American Football team. He measured at least 6-foot-5, had tree trunks for arms and impossibly broad shoulders. His sandy hair was trimmed down to the "high-and-tight" style buzz that was regulation for Starfleet Landers, and serious blue eyes stared out from a face that might have been chiseled for him by a Renaissance sculptor. His choice of workout clothes consisted of green fatigue pants, sneakers and a black t-shirt that sported the Landing Force silver Star-Globe-and-Anchor emblem on the chest. Flores had muttered a soft "Damn!" when the Science Department's officers reported for their first Unarmed Combat training session and she noticed how well the t-shirt showed off Larkin's torso.

The training session was being held in the ship's small exercise room on the Life Support Deck. Any exercise equipment that could be moved had been taken out to make room for lessons. The Science officers were in workout clothes as well, but Montoya thought it was telling that no one had chosen to wear Starfleet-issue ones, opting instead for items that ranged from numbered jerseys similar to those worn by the pros to sweats sold by their respective universities.

When he was sure everyone had arrived, Larkin began the session. "Let's start with a simple question: How many of you _think_ you know what we mean when we talk about Unarmed Combat?" As he expected, everyone raised their hands as soon as he asked. "Commander, why don't you tell us what you think we mean?"

Everyone lowered their hands and Montoya answered. "It means fighting without weapons. Martial Arts. You're going to teach us something like Karate or Judo, right?"

Larkin offered a small smile. "That's about what I figured. No, Commander, I'm not going to teach you anything like Karate or Judo, because Unarmed Combat is not a martial art. It's not an art at all."

"What is it, then?"

"A mindset. You see, the problem with the martial arts that most people are familiar with is that they're heavy with tradition and ritual, they emphasize defense over offense and style over purpose, they're more useful for exhibition than actual combat and they all make the same erroneous assumptions about fighting hand-to-hand, such as the one where you expect your opponent to actually face off against you and follow the same rules, as opposed to just coming up on you when you least expect it and dusting you."

"All right, but if they _do_ actually face off against you wouldn't it be better to concentrate on defending yourself? Isn't the best offense supposed to be a good defense?"

"Only if you ignore a basic fact of history: Nobody ever won a war by staying on defense. And Unarmed Combat is about fighting a war. It's a war that usually only involves you and one other person, but it's a war nonetheless, and the purpose of war is to do as much violence as necessary to your opponent to make sure he's no longer a threat."

Montoya frowned a little at that. "I suppose you mean killing him?"

Larkin nodded. "That's often the amount of violence necessary, but it's sufficient if, when the smoke clears, you're still standing and he can't get back up."

Montoya considered that for a moment, then shook her head. "I can't help but wonder if any of this is really necessary."

"The way I understand it, Commander, having the Klingons parked next to us in orbit makes it necessary."

"Well, isn't it possible that the Klingons' intentions are what they say they are?"

"Anything's possible. They could be here just to observe, or to destroy the ship, or to capture it. What would you do if they picked option three?"

"Well, how likely is option three? _Enterprise_ is bristling with weapons and overflowing with people who know how to use them! And what reason could they have for wanting to capture the ship in the first place?"

Larkin shrugged. "Don't know, but like I said, anything's possible."

Montoya and Larkin regarded each other for a few moments, then Montoya began to pace. "Look, Sergeant, I understand what you're trying to do," she said, "and I can appreciate Captain Pike's and Commander McDonald's reasons for having you do it, but you'll have to forgive me if I find it ludicrous that we should all learn how to kill with our bare hands just because the Klingons are going out of their way to annoy us."

Another pause, then Larkin cocked an eyebrow at Montoya. "That so? In that case, maybe we need to illustrate the problem for you. Just out of curiosity, have you ever taken a self-defense course, or karate? Something like that?"

"A self-defense course, yes."

"Okay. Why don't you show me what you know? The rest of you might want to step back and give us some room."

Montoya turned to the others. "It's okay." She said when she saw them hesitate. She turned back to face Larkin when they moved, but instead of Larkin all she saw was a massive blur heading toward her. Part of the blur streaked toward her neck and slammed into it, then suddenly the room was spinning, then she landed hard on her back. She barely registered the pain of the impact because she was too busy fighting for breath. By the time she could focus enough to realize what was happening there was little she could do about it. Larkin had a death grip on her neck with his right hand, had her right hand pinned to the mat with his left hand and he was sitting with most of his weight on her right leg, and the shock and pain and the lack of air kept her from focusing enough to use her free limbs effectively, so she flailed them near Larkin's body as best she could, hoping against hope that she'd hurt him enough to make him relax his grip. Larkin did relax, but not until she started to go limp. He relaxed his grip on her neck and let her catch her breath, but kept her pinned down as he spoke.

"I'm gonna be honest with you, Commander. The only reason I didn't snap your neck just now is that nobody on this ship wants to do the paperwork necessary to report a training mishap. It's a good thing for you that I'm not a Klingon, because a Klingon would have no such compunction. They enjoy killing things with their bare hands. They do it for exercise. They do it for fun. And if there's paperwork involved? They love it. Gives 'em a chance to _brag_." With that he rose and let her slide out from under him. The look of indignation she hit him with was priceless.

He turned to Flores. "You're the biologist, right?" She nodded. "Then while you're helping Commander Montoya up why don't you explain to her what we're dealing with in terms she can understand?"

Flores shot him an incredulous look, then concentrated on Montoya. She helped her friend up to a sitting position and sat next to her while she talked. "Klingons are what Humans would be if you moved Earth just a shade outside of its Goldilocks Zone. Heavier gravity, a more exotic mix of atmospheric gases and heartier organisms conspired to create a wilder ecosystem than what we're used to. Everything on Kronos evolved to be bigger and meaner, including the higher primates. Early Human Beings were never able to compete physically with the larger predators on Earth without using tools, but Early Klingons were big enough and strong enough to hunt most of the other animals on their planet with their bare hands, and even as they evolved into tool-using animals they tried their best to hold onto the traits that made their ancestors the kings of the primitive jungle. They don't try to suppress their violent urges the way we do. To them it's more important to find ways to apply violence intelligently. And all that leaves you with Modern Klingon, a primate with the intelligence of _Homo_ _Sapiens_ and the build and aggressive tendencies of the Great Apes, sort of a…shaved-down, Warp-capable Sasquatch." She gave Larkin a quick glance before finishing her lecture. "And he's right. If a shaved-down, Warp-capable Sasquatch gets it into his head to kill you with his bare hands, you're not gonna stop him with the stuff you learned in a self-defense class."

Montoya offered Larkin one more withering glare as Flores helped her to her feet. He simply gave her a small smile in response, then continued the class. "I hope everyone was paying attention to the Lieutenant because everything she said was true and it will make what I show you here over the next few days all the more useful. Klingons are bigger, stronger and meaner than any human you'll ever meet, but the things they have in common with us are things you can exploit when fighting them…"

* * *

_Enterprise_'s Shooting Range was located near the Armory and could accommodate four shooters at a time. Major Wayne Song had decided to handle the Science Department's Small Arms training himself and his first four students were Montoya, Flores, Ben Goren and Jim Greenfield. He chose to start them out on Childress particle weapons because he considered them the perfect firearms for beginners. "There is absolutely no recoil," he explained, "and each particle will burn a hole in the air for the next particle, and as they travel at near light-speed the effect of gravity on the stream is almost nil, so you will not have to correct for bounce, drag, wind or anything else associated with other weapons. It is almost a foregone conclusion that you will hit what you aim at, so the onus is entirely on you to aim smartly. I'm gonna show you how to do that momentarily, but first I want to familiarize you with the weapon. Pick up the one in front of you."

On the tabletop in front of each of the trainees was a Childress pistol and two power packs. Each of them picked up the weapon. As when she first encountered it, Montoya was struck by how light the large, blocky hand-held weapon seemed.

"If you look on the right side of the handle you will see two contacts," Song continued, "one marked 'S' and one 'M'."

"S and M," Flores whispered to Montoya. "Kinky!"

"Shush!" Montoya whispered back.

"Relax," Song said to her, "someone always says it. Of course, that someone is always _wrong _because in this case the 'S' stands for 'Safety' and the 'M' stands for 'Mode.' Their functions will become clear when you power up the weapons. Go ahead and put a power pack in now." The Science Officers complied. "With the pack in you should now be seeing indicator lights above each of the contacts. The green indicator above the S-contact means the weapon is now in Safe Mode, which means you can squeeze the trigger, drop the thing, kick it, throw it at your best friend or what have you and it will not fire. This is the weapon's default setting. To make it a useful killing tool you must depress the S-contact and switch the indicator from green to red, which you will do when I give you the command 'Safeties Off.'" A pause. "Safeties Off!" Everyone pressed their S-contacts and watched the indicator light switch color.

"If you see red," Song continued, "you are now holding a live weapon, and you can now use the M-contact to select the mode-of-fire. Right now the indicator should be yellow, which means the weapon is in Semi-Automatic Mode. This means that when you squeeze the trigger the weapon will emit a stream of high-energy particles for a duration of one second. There is enough power and material in the pack for you to do this thirty times. That's thirty shots in Plain English. If you press the M-contact you will switch the indicator from yellow to red. Press the contact." A pause while the class complied. "The weapon is now in Full-Automatic Mode, which means when you squeeze the trigger the weapon will fire a continuous stream of particles until you ease off or until the pack is depleted, which will happen thirty seconds after you start firing. Questions so far?" There were none. "Safeties On." Everyone put their weapons back in Safe Mode.

"Now we can talk about aiming. You're essentially going to make your body into a bipod for the weapon. Your accuracy will be determined by your stance. We'll start with a two-handed stance. You want to stand up straight with your legs slightly apart. That's it. Now extend your weapon toward your target and use your free hand to support your gun hand. Here you'll want to turn your support side slightly toward the target. Good, good. Now, sight down the barrel, and by that I mean center the shooting end of the weapon on the part of the target you want to hit, which in this case is going to be the bull's-eye in the head. Everybody got that?" The officers nodded. "Remember how you're standing right now. When I say 'Aim' you will assume this stance, line up on the target and take a deep breath. When I say 'Fire' you will squeeze the trigger twice. Now bring your weapon up above your shoulder." Everyone complied. "This is the stance you'll take when I say 'Ready'. Any questions?" There were none. "Safeties off, Semi-auto." Song paused and backed off a little as everyone set their weapons. When he saw they were ready for him, Song put on his command voice:

"Ready! Ai-m! _Fire!_"

The sound of a Childress particle shot was that of a distant peal of thunder. The eight thunderclaps that echoed in the Shooting Range, along with the flashes of white light that indicated the shots' impacts on the far wall, left Montoya with the instinctual desire to seek shelter from the approaching storm. The gut reaction lasted only a second, long enough for Song to approach a nearby control panel and press a contact. The four targets slid on rails until they were close to their shooters. Song walked along behind the science officers, checking the targets by looking over their shoulders. Everyone had put their shots through the bull's-eye.

Song smiled. "There. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Montoya grimaced as she lowered her weapon and stared the still-smoldering hole in the target silhouette's head. It hadn't been hard at all, and she found it distressing that it might be so easy to kill a living being. She wanted to voice that to Song, but her experience in Unarmed Combat training helped her to hold her tongue.

Flores had never been that easily cowed. She turned to Song. "What if the target doesn't have a head?"

"Beg pardon?" Song said.

Flores indicated the targets. "These are all humanoid torsos. I suppose it's useful to learn how to shoot humanoids properly with these things, but what if we come up against something with no head or vital organs?"

"What on Earth would have no head and no vital organs?"

"Well, that's kinda my point. We're not _on_ Earth. What if you were down on Shiva Three with no other weapon but this and you encountered…I dunno, a land jellyfish or something."

Song winced. "A _land jellyfish_?"

The others chuckled as Flores shrugged. "Okay, it's not a real jellyfish, but something like it that can survive on the planet's marshy surface. Look, all I'm saying is that a jellyfish doesn't have a head, or vital organs or much of a nervous system. It's just a really big mass of really small things that work together to get by, and if you ever had to face one of them with just this thing you'd be screwed, because it wouldn't even notice all the particles you shoot through it. So what do you do?"

The others looked at Song as he thought about it for a moment. "Do you have a radio?" He asked Flores.

"Would that matter?"

"Sure, because if you have a radio you can holster the Childress, call the ship, have it rain fire down on the thing and run like hell before _Enterprise_'s particle shots hit. It's called 'Fire Support'. I never said these weapons were the right tool for every situation, Lieutenant. We're just more concerned with the very real Klingons sharing an orbit with us, and fortunately for us they _do _have heads, vital organs and nervous systems, so why don't we continue training as if we'll be facing them and worry about land jellyfish when we see them, Okay?"

Flores turned back to her target. "It was just a question…"

Song ignored her and went back over to the control panel, deciding to move on. "Okay, let's recycle these targets and try shooting one-handed…"

* * *

Lieutenant Commander Peter Shanahan, Brigid Silas's Scanner Officer, was handling Montoya and Flores's training in the Cavalier's sensor systems. The four of them were on the Hangar Deck. Silas and Montoya were in the cockpit of Silas's Cavalier, while Shanahan and Flores were standing on ladders on either side. The cockpit was open and the controls were operating on auxiliary power so that Shanahan could talk Montoya through tracking drills. "Remember that the camera's automatic control systems are doing most of the work for you," he said, "so it's already compensating for the target's speed and maneuverability as you work the controller. All you really want to do is tell it what to look for."

Montoya's attention was fixed on the main multi-function display as she controlled the ship's optical system by feel. She was using the joystick controller and the thumb-operated trackball on top to keep a set of crosshairs centered on a bright target on a low-light moving image.

"That's it." Shanahan said. "You've got it right in your sights. Now pull the trigger."

Montoya complied, squeezing the trigger on the joystick. The optical system began to follow the target on its own.

"Now you can try to match the image in the database. Use the trackball to highlight 'Ident' on the sidebar menu, select it with the trigger, and if the computer has info on it you'll see it on the right-side display."

Montoya complied. She heard the same tone that sounded when they'd first identified the _Martok_. When she checked the proper display this time she saw that the computer had identified a Klingon Raptor.

"Surprise," she said, "it's a Klingon."

Shanahan chuckled. "I figured that sim would come in handy. Obviously, you're not going to have any of Shiva Three's lifeforms in the database…"

"Except the whales." Silas noted.

"…except the whales, but if the Klingons are going to keep hanging around while we do our recon, being able to ID them will be a useful skill."

Montoya let go of the joystick and settled back in her seat. She let out a soft sigh as she stared at the Raptor information.

"I know that sigh…" Silas said.

"So do I." Flores said.

Montoya turned to Flores. "If we were smart, instead of practicing how to identify Klingons and shoot Klingons and break Klingon necks we would simply ask if they mean what they say about being here to help us."

Silas couldn't let that one slide. "We're plenty smart. We practice all that because we're smart enough to remember that Klingons often _don't_ mean what they say."

"I think it's an encouraging sign that they've honored the cease-fire for ten years."

"All that did was give them ten years to build up weapons for the day the intend to break it."

"How can you be sure they're intent on breaking it?"

"Because wars end in _victory_, not cease-fires. That's what Klingons believe."

"I think there are too many _Humans_ with the same pig-headed notion."

"Belle, Brigid," Flores said, "play nice or I'll tell Number One on you."

"I'm not the one who sees Klingons under every bed!" Montoya said.

"And I'm not the one who thinks the Klingons warped all the way out here just to sing Cumbaya with us!" Silas said.

"Brigid, the only reason Humans and Klingons are enemies is because we let ourselves get caught up in the Reunification War. The Romulans used the Klingons against the Vulcans and the Vulcans used us to counter the Klingons. We were pawns that might never have encountered each other in battle if it weren't for another race's perennial hissy-fit over which thousand-year-dead guru they should follow."

"Maybe, but the Klingons wouldn't have gotten involved at all if they didn't see some kind of benefit in pitching in with the Romulans, and part of that benefit is any spoils they can get from us. Those potential gains didn't go away just because all the Pointy-Ears decided to take an extended break. We know that and so do the Klingons, and eventually they're going to come after those spoils, Romulans or no Romulans."

"Well, has anyone ever bothered to ask what we might give the Klingons to keep them from attacking?"

"Oh, of all the stupid…"

"It's a valid question, Commander."

Everyone turned to see Captain Pike standing near the craft. He came closer as he continued. "And the answer is 'Yes', but the big brains all got together afterward and decided that for what the Klingons really want, it would be more cost-effective to simply fight them to the bitter end. Bean-counters aren't usually that bright, but there you are." He turned to Silas. "Would you give me a moment alone with Commander Montoya?"

Silas nodded, then turned to the others. "Pete, Wendy, come on. Let's let these two talk." She climbed out of the cockpit and let Shanahan help her down, then the three of them moved off toward where a plane crew was working on a transport. Flores gave Montoya a small smile and wave as they departed.

"How do you do that?" Montoya asked as she watched them.

Pike smiled. "Rank hath its privileges." He climbed up the ladder Flores was standing on and peered into the cockpit. His attention was on the pilot's station. "I've always wanted to try one of these."

"You've never flown a Cavalier before?"

"Not once. They didn't come into service until after I got on the Command Track, and I never was a VTOL pilot."

"I would think the principles would be the same for every spacecraft."

"The principles are the same, but each ship applies them differently, and sometimes the differences can be radical. It takes a special kind of crazy to fly this thing." He smiled. "I was only the standard kind of crazy." He waited until Montoya smiled back, then got serious. "So what was that all about?"

Montoya frowned. "Apparently I'm being hopelessly naïve about the Klingons."

"In what way?"

"I think it would make sense to see if they really are here to help us conduct our survey."

"And if they are?"

"It was something Wendy said about them earlier: We might not be able to put an Away team on Shiva Three, but the Klingons might. If we could get them to lend us some people, we could equip them with tri-corders and they could do a closer inspection than we can with our smallcraft. They might thrive on land that hostile, where we'd just be overwhelmed by it." When Pike turned away to think about it, her heart sank. "I suppose you'll chew my head off as well."

"Not necessarily." Pike said as he turned back. "Frankly, that's not a bad idea. Every one of them that we could get on the mission is one we can account for and deprive their captain of at the same time. It'd be great if we could get them to commit their detachment of Guardsmen, and all their Raptors…"

"That's not what I meant."

"I know it's not, but that's the way I have to look at it."

"Because they're Klingons and therefore automatically evil."

"Not automatically, but they do have the potential for great evil. All I'm interested in is reducing that potential."

"So simply trusting them is out of the question?"

"There's an old saying: Trust, but Verify. I'll trust them when I know for sure I have the upper hand."

"Well, I don't think I'll need half their crew. Just a few people to carry tri-corders."

"In that case, let me do the negotiating. You take what you need and we'll find something creative to do with the rest of them."

"Maybe we should just forget the whole thing."

Pike shook his head. "I said it was a good idea, Montoya." He climbed down off the ladder. "Look, if you decide to go ahead with it let me know and I'll get in touch with Koloth." With that he turned away and headed for the turbolift.

* * *

"I _still_ can't believe you actually wanted to bring the _Klingons_ in on the mission!" Silas said. She and Montoya were "Feet Hot" again over Shiva Three and descending toward their assigned search area. In the few days following their initial sighting of the whales, Silas and her operations team had drafted a proper flight schedule and mission plan for observing the planet's sea life.

"Let it go, Brigid," Montoya said. "I didn't actually go through with it."

"I'm still stuck on the fact that you even _considered_ it. What were you thinking?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time. Captain Pike even said so."

"Don't fool yourself, Smart Girl. I'm sure he was just being polite."

"Well, wouldn't it be better to have at least some Klingons working for us so we can keep an eye on them?"

"No, it's better if they all stay in their ship, so that if we need to deal with them…"

A familiar tone interrupted Silas. This time Montoya recognized it as the Scanner Intercept Warning alarm. She looked for the proper contact on the left side panel and turned it off, then looked at her displays. "Sorry, but they're not cooperating. A Raptor just entered the atmosphere. It must have followed us down and locked onto us as soon as it came out of 'blackout.'"

"Of course it did." Silas muttered. "Where is it now?"

"Um…okay, it's at zero-nine-three degrees and about 15,000 feet above us." Just then the intercept warning sounded again. "And it's tracking us again."

Montoya turned off the alarm just in time to hear Silas mutter, "Son of a…" then Silas rocked the ship back and forth.

"He's coming down on our right." Montoya said. Seconds later the Raptor appeared next to them, matching their angle of descent and speed. Montoya and Silas looked over in time to see the Klingon pilot wave.

Montoya waved, but couldn't see Silas seething at the enemy pilot. A quick glance at the Raptor's markings told her that it was the same ship that accosted them when they first descended on Shiva. Knowing that made her decision easier. The Klingon was waiting for her to wave back. Instead she brought her hand up in a sharp salute. As she brought the hand down and returned it to the controller, she said softly: "A-M-F."

Montoya wasn't prepared for the snap roll and dive, so she screamed all the way until Silas leveled out and streaked over the canopy of the Shivan forest. When she recovered she screamed at Silas: "Would you _stop_ doing that!"

* * *

Toro followed the Cavalier right through the maneuver, a grin on his face so wide he was bearing his fangs. This was more like it. Apparently the Earthers had decided to stop acting like fishermen and start acting like tactical pilots. That was fine. Klingon squadrons often practiced against captured and rebuilt Human ships, but they didn't have any Cavaliers. This would be good training. He made a mental note to be thorough in his after-action report so that the Flying Corps would have usable data for instructing future pilots.

* * *

"What are you trying to do!" Montoya said. Indicators on her displays showed that the inertial dampers were starting to kick in as Silas took her ship supersonic.

Silas ignored her. Normally she would be relying on her backseater to keep track of their pursuer, but Montoya was nowhere near experienced enough, so she decided to rely on her perfectly good Mark One Eyeball and her side mirror to let her know if the Klingon was still behind her. Sure enough, a small speck in the distance was keeping pace with her as the forest streaked by under them.

Montoya was going to ask Silas the question again, but the _Enterprise_ beat her to it. "Rider One, Prize, we read you as going evasive and accelerating through Mach Numbers. Do you require assistance, over?"

Silas took a moment to respond. "Negative, Prize. Just giving my wingman some impromptu ACM instruction, over."

_Order her to stop!_ Montoya begged in her mind. The ship's velocity was climbing steadily toward hypersonic range.

The Science Officer was disappointed. "Roger that, Rider One. Be advised that your wingman is accelerating to overtake and that King One is also enjoying the show. Give 'em something pretty to watch, over."

Silas grinned under her mask. "Will Do, Prize. Rider One out." She signed off in time to hear Montoya curse in Spanish. "Hey! I know what that means!"

"Then maybe you'll be more cooperative when I beg you to _stop_!" Montoya said.

Silas checked her mirror. The Raptor was getting closer. "Oh, I'm gonna stop…"

Montoya felt a twinge of hope. "You are?"

Silas was still watching the Klingon's approach. "In a minute…but you might want to brace yourself."

"Why?"

"Because even with the dampers, you're gonna feel this." _Now!_

Montoya lurched forward as Silas checked the ship's forward motion hard. The pilot kept her gaze fixed upward and was rewarded with the sight of the Raptor streaking past overhead. She didn't take too long to enjoy the view. Instead she yawed right and firewalled the throttles, accelerating even faster than before.

* * *

Toro cursed and asked _Martok_ for a position check on the Cavalier. He couldn't slow to a hover fast enough to copy the maneuver and a turn at this speed would be a wide one, so he would just make it wide enough to intersect the Human's track.

"This is Base," he heard. "Prey is at canopy level and heading 136 at 1530 _kramm_ and accelerating."

Toro did the math in his head, accelerated and started his turn. "Acknowledged."

* * *

Silas was crunching numbers in her head as well. If the Klingon were any kind of pilot he would be burning up the atmosphere trying to get ahead of her on her course. Fortunately, there was only so fast that he could go and stay in the atmosphere. The same went for her, but in this instance the limitation was a blessing. It meant that she would make it to the coast before the bad guy completed his turn. When that happened she'd only need to make a slight course correction to throw him off again. "Come on," she mumbled, "Feet Wet, Feet Wet…"

She grinned as the green blur she was flying over turned into a sparkly blue one. She counted down to the right moment, then yawed right again and dropped to wavetop level. Twin plumes of white erupted in the Cavalier's wake as the engine exhaust vaporized the ocean water.

* * *

Toro sighed as he heard the latest position check on the target. His current course and speed would still intersect the Cavalier's, but he'd be behind and above it. He weighed his options. He could simply alter course and overtake the Human ship, but that would only be a useful course of action if he meant to shoot it down. His orders were specific: the Humans had to know they were being hounded, so he had to confront this adversary head-on. That meant choosing Option Two. He continued through his turn until he was heading in the right direction, then accelerated to escape velocity.

* * *

"Rider One, Prize," _Enterprise_ called, "be advised Bandit One is Feet Cold and transiting through low orbit. Estimate reentry in five minutes and Bandit will be at your Ten O'Clock when Feet Hot."

"Cheater." Silas muttered as she acknowledged the report with two clicks of her mike. "Isabel! I need your help!"

"I'm not helping you!" Montoya huffed. "You're insane!"

"I know you're mad, but all I need you to do is give me control of the active sensors."

"Why? So you can shoot him down!" This time the Cavalier was armed with clusters of short-range, hypersonic anti-air missiles.

"No, so I can make him _think_ I'm going to shoot him down. I just want to light him up as he's coming out of blackout, then we'll stand down, okay?"

Montoya thought about it for a minute, then decided the situation couldn't be more fouled-up than it already was. She hit the "ALAC" and "CTP" contacts, then crossed her arms petulantly and stared out the right side of the canopy.

* * *

Toro rolled his ship as he slowed to reenter, then nosed in. He was just barely traveling slow enough to keep from burning up. He wanted to emerge from the ionized air around him traveling too fast for the Human to react, and just to make things interesting he activated his cloaking device as soon as he reentered. The Human would probably be at wavetop level when their paths intersected, so it was Toro's intention to power dive on the Cavalier and level off at the last possible second. The concussion of the dive and the wash from his engines should shake the craft like a leaf in the wind. If the Human pilot were as good as he pretended to be, he should manage to keep the craft aloft. If not…well, Toro decided he'd be really sorry, but _Constitution_-class ships usually carried two, so it wouldn't be that great a loss…

* * *

Silas checked her watch, then slowed to a hover and matched bearings with the target. She angled up slowly until the ship's nose was pointed to where she expected the Raptor to emerge, then she counted down. At zero she fired off the target illumination system, fully expected to hear the high-pitch warble that would signal a target lock. When there was nothing but silence, she contacted the ship. "Prize, Rider One. The target must have cloaked. Can you confirm Bandit is Feet Hot, over?"

Montoya ignored _Enterprise_'s response. She closed her eyes and shook her head, hoping that she was having a bad dream. When everything was the same after opening her eyes she sighed and looked absently out the left side of the canopy.

Her eyes bugged out at what she saw. "Brigid…"

"Not now, Isabel." Silas said. "We only have a couple of seconds…"

The large shadow Montoya saw was getting closer to the surface. "I know that! Look left, now!"

Silas glanced left -- then stared at the surface of the water. "Holy…!"

She backed off just in time to avoid the gout of water that erupted as a Shivan whale breached the surface with one of its leaps. Time seemed to slow down as Montoya watched the animal hang in the air. Then the air above it seemed to shimmer…then the whale exploded in a red mist. Then, where the Cavalier had just been hovering, there was a more conventional explosion that roiled the water in front of them. Pieces of the crashed object slammed into the Cavalier, starring the canopy in a few places but otherwise causing little damage.

Silas didn't stop backing off until the shockwave of the explosion subsided. She gained altitude and started to circle the grisly scene. What was left of the whale was floating in one direction while what was left of the Raptor floated the opposite way, but the whale's blood was spreading across the site and would soon mingle with the Raptor debris. There was no sign of the Klingon pilot at all.

Montoya swallowed hard. "My God…" She said with a quavering voice.

Silas's reaction was more focused. She got on the radio: "Rider One to all ships: Raptor is down! Repeat: Raptor is down! Request immediate hostile environment Search and Rescue dispatched to my position!"


	4. Act Three

**DISCLAIMER:** _Star Trek and all related characters are the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc and CBS-Paramount Television. No copyright infringement is intended. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. The original characters and events are the sole property of the author and may not be used without permission._

**STAR TREK:**

**THE CAVALIER INCIDENT**

**By Darrin Colbourne**

* * *

Sitting at the Science Station in Control, Ben Goren wondered idly what the sentient beings that might evolve from the muck of Shiva Three would think if, just as they were mastering heavier-than-air flight, they discovered evidence that one day in their prehistory their sky was filled with the spacecraft of two interstellar races. Of course, it was unlikely such evidence would survive the natural evolution of the planet itself, but it was happening, and at least there was someone to witness it.

The Klingons had taken the lead in the Search and Rescue effort. Two of their transport shuttles and two more Raptors were circling the crash site. Divers in heavy encounter suits were in the water trying their best to locate their fallen comrade, while the ships scanned the surrounding ocean in search of the crashed ship's flight data recorder. Above that scene, Rider Two and Haulers One and Two circled. Both Starfleet transports were loaded with Human divers in heavy encounter suits, along with surface and subsurface search equipment. They were there as backup, while Rider Two assisted with the search for the flight recorder. Circling high above the other ships was Rider One, piloted by a now contrite Silas and a devastated Montoya. Without an experienced backseater and with a damaged ship there was little Silas could contribute to the effort, so she circled and stayed out of the way.

Meanwhile, as the spacecraft did their jobs and Goren watched the scene, Koloth raged at Pike from the main viewer. "…and I assure you, Captain Pike, that this blatant act of aggression on the part of your officers will be reported to the highest levels of my government, and _yours_!"

"Really? Are you also going to tell them that it was _your_ officer that was intent on goading mine into taking evasive maneuvers?"

"My pilot was engaged in combat exercises on a neutral world, and had every right to do so!"

"Your pilot was gathering intelligence on my people and ships, and neutral world or not, he had absolutely no right to do that!"

"If you accuse my officer of espionage, you are obliged by your own laws to give him the chance to defend himself! He cannot defend himself from _Sto'Vokor_! Your officers, however, are here to answer for their crimes. I accuse them of violating the cease-fire and killing my officer, and I demand that you turn them over to me so that they may stand trial for their actions!"

"I don't think so! My people were engaged in purely scientific study around the planet! They didn't fire a shot, and your officer killed one of the indigenous life-forms before he crashed his ship! The only crime committed here was _his_ crime against nature!"

That made Goren look toward the center seat. It sounded like something Montoya would say.

It didn't have much effect on Koloth. He still looked livid, but he forced himself to calm down. "Captain Pike, surely we can come to an understanding. It is your custom to investigate such mishaps involving your pilots, is it not?"

"Yes it is, as I'm sure it is yours."

"Then I ask that when you conduct your investigation we be allowed to observe and participate. Would that be acceptable?"

Pike glared at the screen. His gut instinct was to refuse, but given that the Klingons were the ones who'd lost a man in the incident it was a reasonable request. "I'll see what I can do."

"I will await your communication." Koloth signed off with that.

Pike let out a calming breath through his nose, then he turned to the Communicator. "Recall Rider One and have the Executive Officer report to Control."

* * *

Montoya's gaze was fixed on the crash site. She'd managed not to scream when the whale was killed or when the Raptor went down, but the initial shock had given way to tears by the time the first rescue ships arrived. Her sobs had quieted down, but she was still crying. "How could you?" She said.

Silas didn't have an immediate answer. She wasn't even sure Montoya was talking to her. All she could think about was what she knew would happen next.

"Answer me!" Montoya said, leaving no doubt she was talking to Silas. "Tell me why we had to do that! Tell me why it was so important for us to cause two deaths just because the Klingons had the nerve to show up in the same system we were in!"

Silas sighed. "Isabel…"

"Rider One, Prize. Stand down from Away mission and Return to Base. Do you copy?"

"Copy that, Prize. Rider One is standing down and Returning to Base." She signed off. "And here we go…" She pulled out of her circle and accelerated to escape velocity.

"So now we just leave?" Montoya said. "We just go back to the ship and forget everything that's happened?"

"Not even close." Silas said. They continued on in silence until they reached orbit, where Silas informed the ship they were out of the atmosphere. The ship radioed back approach instructions, and Silas completed almost a full orbit in order to gain speed and altitude. She approached _Enterprise_ from aft, slipped under the ship and found the Flight Bay outer doors open and waiting. Her entry and landing on the Flight Deck were textbook.

When the outer and inner doors closed, Silas heard: "Welcome home, Rider One."

Silas huffed. "Sure. Now all we need is the welcoming committee."

They showed up just moments after the Flight Deck repressurized. First came Silas's plane crew to help the flight crew out of the Cavalier. They were followed by Gunny Larkin and two more Landers in Work Colors. All three were wearing sidearms.

As soon as Silas and Montoya were standing on the deck, Larkin approached. "Commander Silas, Commander Montoya, on the Captain's Orders you are both relieved of your duties and restricted to quarters pending the investigation of today's mishap."

"Wait, why am _I_ being relieved of duty?" Montoya said.

"I can't speak to that, Sir. I'm only here to relay the Captain's orders and have my men escort you back to your quarters."

Montoya was about to protest further, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. It was Silas. "Let's just go with them, Isabel. It'll be all right."

Montoya just glared at her, then turned her flight helmet over to one of the plane crew and headed for the Hangar Deck. One of the Landers fell in step behind her. As she walked she noticed there was a team of Engineers in black coveralls standing just inside the entrance to the Hangar Deck. She assumed they were waiting for the Cavalier to be towed in.

Montoya didn't say a word to anyone all the way back to her stateroom. The Lander stationed himself outside as she went in. She stopped just inside the entrance as the door closed, leaned against it and covered her face with her hands. She wanted to scream, cry, pound the walls, do _something_ to give vent to her sadness and anger, but couldn't decide which to do first.

Commander McDonald's voice snapped her out of her funk. "None the worse for wear, I see."

Montoya lowered her hands and opened her eyes to see Number One sitting at her desk. The sight helped her decide on screaming. "How the _hell_ did you get in here?"

McDonald remained perfectly calm as she pointed toward her own quarters. "I live next door, remember? I came in through the head."

Montoya closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down. "Then _why_ are you in here?"

"I'm here to ask you about what happened down there."

Montoya opened her eyes and stared daggers at McDonald. "And you felt it was necessary to arrest me just to ask me questions."

"Not arrest. 'Restrict to quarters.' Two different things."

Montoya gave her an incredulous look, then sighed and came all the way in. She flopped down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. "Is this part of your job, too?" She asked.

McDonald turned in the chair to face the bed. "Strictly speaking, investigating a mishap involving one of our smallcraft would be the job of the Group Commander, but since she was flying the craft in question the responsibility has to fall on the next senior pilot aboard, and that would be me."

"And restricting us to quarters?"

"Again, strictly speaking, that isn't usually necessary, but this mishap also involved the death of an alien citizen…"

"I know. I was there."

"…and the mission was launched and conducted under the direction of our Science Officer."

That made Montoya sit up. "So _I_ made it necessary for you to restrict me to quarters simply because it was a science mission and I was along for the ride?"

"Commander, you are Second Officer aboard this ship. You are Third-In-Command and our Mission Planner. I understand that you have yet to fully comprehend what all that truly means in terms of your responsibilities, but it should be enough for me to say that there is nothing simple about anything you do, especially in this instance. The fact that you were there, in Silas's craft, running your mission, means that if it's shown that she bears responsibility for the Klingon's death, you will bear some of the responsibility as well."

Montoya chuckled mirthlessly. "You're all insane." She muttered as she got up and started pacing.

McDonald watched her passively. "We're insane because we expect you to accept responsibility for your actions?"

"No, you're insane because you and your Landers have spent all week teaching me how to kill Klingons and when one of them actually dies you act like you have a problem with it!"

"We do have a problem with it if we're not at war with the Klingons…"

Montoya threw up her hands. "Finally! One of you admits it!"

McDonald continued as if she hadn't heard. "…and of course we're not at war with them at present. The training is for the day that happy circumstance comes to an end, but no one wants to _hasten_ that end, and that's exactly what would happen if it's shown that you and Silas were responsible for the Klingon's death."

Montoya stopped pacing and looked McDonald in the eye. "Well, if it worries you so much, why didn't you stop her?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"When the ship asked her why she was speeding up she told them she was trying to draw the Klingon into some kind of combat drill, and the ship practically told her to 'damn the torpedoes' and go for it!"

"Wait…you're saying that Silas voiced her intent to engage the Raptor and the Control Room cleared her to do it?"

"Well, she didn't say she was going to engage. Just something about 'ACM training,' or something like it, then the ship said 'That's Great, Go get 'em!' or whatever jargon you use!"

McDonald turned away. "Damn!" She muttered.

"What is it?" Montoya said.

McDonald turned back. "It wasn't 'the ship.' When one of our pilots is talking to 'Prize', he or she is speaking to the Communications Officer in the Control Room…"

"I understand that. So?"

"So, the Communications Officer doesn't have the authority to tell a tactical craft to do or not do anything. Such directives come from the Watch Officer."

"But I don't see…Oh. It was during the Forenoon Watch, wasn't it?"

McDonald nodded. "You realize how much further this complicates things. If what you say is true then Captain Pike is at best a material witness and at worst complicit in Silas's actions, and I'm obliged to report such to him and request that he recuse himself from any Board of Inquiry that might be convened to investigate the matter."

"Are you saying he wouldn't recuse himself?"

"I'm sure he _would_. That's the problem, because then we'd have to turn the matter over to his immediate superior…"

"And his immediate superior is back on Earth."

"Bloody Marvelous!" McDonald hissed.

There was a short silence between them, then Montoya said: "So we just go back to Earth. I would think you'd be happy about that. You haven't exactly been supportive of what we're doing out here."

"For pity's sake, Montoya! I don't want going back to Earth to result in the Captain being stripped of his command and Silas being sent to jail!"

"Would I go to jail, too?"

"No, you'd most likely be decommissioned and permanently beached…and to be honest _that_ I wouldn't mind. At any rate, we wouldn't necessarily have to go back to Earth for the hearing. It all depends on what Jellico wants to do." With that, McDonald stood and headed for the door.

"How long am I to be confined?" Montoya said.

"Until the investigation is concluded." McDonald said. "I'll arrange for your meals to be brought here. In the meantime you are not to discuss this incident with anyone else. Is that clear, Commander?"

"Aye Aye, Sir." Montoya's voice dripped with sarcasm.

McDonald stopped herself before she opened the door and turned back. "Let me ask you something, Montoya. Why didn't _you_ stop Silas?"

"I tried to stop her! I begged her to stop!"

"Did you _order_ her to stop?"

"Well, no, but what good would that have done?"

"Are you saying you think she would have disobeyed the order?"

"Absolutely! She was flying the mission! I didn't have any authority…"

"It was _your_ mission, and she's serving in a ship where you are Third in the Chain of Command and she's _Fifth_, which means you had all the authority you needed to order her to stand down from engaging the Klingon and resume her primary assignment. If you had given that order and she had disobeyed, or you were overridden by Captain Pike, you wouldn't be here right now. There would be no question of responsibility on your part."

They stared at each other for a moment, then realization took the wind out of Montoya's sails. "I didn't know…"

McDonald sighed. "Hence our continuing to be at odds. Commander, I have a full-time job aboard as well, so I don't have time to teach you everything you need to know to do yours in one sitting. I will teach you as much as I'm able, but I would think you'd at least try to work some of this out on your own. Working things out is supposed to be your specialty, after all." With that, McDonald turned and left.

Montoya simply stood in the middle of her stateroom and let that sink in. The hell of it was McDonald was right in every respect. Dr. Narain had often complimented her on her ability to solve puzzles, and there was nothing more puzzling to Montoya than the military. There was something else that Dr. Narain had said: The whole point of her wearing a Starfleet uniform and taking the Science Officer posting aboard _Enterprise_ was to give her the authority to give orders to regular Starfleet personnel, and in this instance "regular Starfleet personnel" included Silas.

"Damn," she muttered, then started to change out of her flight suit.

* * *

"There's been a complication." Pike said. "My Executive Officer has given me some information that will effect our inquiry into this matter. I'm going to need to contact my superiors and have them look into this."

Koloth forced himself to remain calm. "If you think that's necessary, but I would think that you'd be capable of handling this on your own."

Pike looked off screen for a moment, as if he were trying to come to grips with something. "Yes, well, as I said, there's been a complication."

"I see. Do you anticipate the need for more of your ships to come to this system?"

"That will be up to my superiors. I honestly couldn't say one way or another."

"Very Well. I will, of course, need to notify my superiors as well of this…'complication.'"

"Of course. How is the search coming?"

"I'm afraid we might have to give up on recovering our pilot."

"My condolences."

"And we have not yet recovered the Raptor's flight recorder."

"I see. It would help us to resolve this situation all the more rapidly if we could have access to the Raptor's flight data…"

"I'll see what I can do."

"I'll await your communication." Pike signed off, and his image was replaced on the viewer by the image of the _Enterprise_.

Koloth slammed his fist on his command chair and cursed. "I should kill that imbecile with my bare hands!"

"Captain Pike?" Jhang asked.

"No, the fool that exposed us to the _Enterprise_ and set these events in motion in the first place!"

"I understand your frustration, Captain, but if we killed every experienced officer that made a small error…"

"There's an old Human poem that begins 'For want of a nail…' It ends with the heroes losing the war. The moral is clear: Even the smallest mistakes can have the greatest consequences. Contact First Armada Command. Inform them that we face two possibilities. Either the _Enterprise_ will be recalled to Earth or we will soon be up to our beards in starships. In either event we will need to adjust our mission parameters."

* * *

It wasn't exactly up to his beard, but two days later Koloth was forced to face the second possibility. A detachment of one cruiser and two frigates from Starfleet's Cruiser/Destroyer Group Three warped into the Shiva system and joined _Enterprise_ and _Martok_ in orbit. The cruiser, USS _Trailblazer_, was one of the _Pathfinder_ Class, ships that might have replaced the _Constitution_ Class entirely if cost overruns hadn't forced a limit on the number of Pathfinders built and paved the way for the cheaper Constitution Class Refit. The newer cruisers were sleeker, faster and armed with Vertical Torpedo Launch Systems in their Support Sections, obviating the need to keep their targets in their boresights.

Christopher Pike always felt a sense of dread whenever he saw a Pathfinder sharing an orbit with him. Even before he received command of one he had always been a fan of the Constitutions, and he knew the Pathfinders' original purpose. He was always struck by the gut feeling that a Pathfinder in his orbit meant that his _Enterprise_ was about to be taken away and scrapped. It was an irrational fear, he knew, but he'd never been able to shake it.

_Trailblazer_ brought a different dread with her this time. Pike turned that dread over in his mind as he waited in the Hangar Deck while the Flight Deck repressurized. A Workhorse transport had just come aboard from the other cruiser carrying three Very Important Persons. When the main hatch opened the three Starfleet officers walked into the Hangar Deck with a purpose. The controller in the Flight Ops section announced them as they crossed the threshold:

"Trash Hauler Squadron, Arriving." Captain Terrence Ironside looked too tall and seemed too muscular of build to even fit in the cockpit of one of the squadron of Workhorse transports he commanded, but he'd been flying similar ships for nearly twenty years and had never had a problem getting behind the controls. His pilots knew him as a gruff commander who saved what personal warmth he could muster for leave time with his wife and kids.

"Outrider Squadron, Arriving." Captain Sheila McAllister was the opposite of Ironside: small, slim and more personable with her pilots. A skunk stripe of gray adorned her otherwise jet-black locks and she sported a near-permanent tan that she maintained whenever she could by camping and taking the sun in the Outback of her native Australia.

"Cruiser/Destroyer Group Three, Arriving." The most intimidating member of the trio was Rear Admiral Benjamin Sisko, former fighter pilot, starship commander and, until the start of the Common Man Project, Captain Pike's boss. He was nearly as tall as Ironside and very fit for a man his age. With his dark head shaved bald, the only way one could tell he was going gray was to hunt for the gray hairs in his thin, scrupulously manicured goatee.

All three officers were wearing their Dress Black uniforms, making Pike feel underdressed in his Work Colors as he walked up to greet them. "Permission to come aboard, Captain?" Sisko said.

"Permission granted," Pike said as he and Sisko shook hands. "Welcome aboard the _Enterprise_." He shook hands with Ironside and McAllister in turn. "Captains, welcome aboard. If you'll follow me, we've set up quarters for you on the Command Deck." Each officer was carrying a small suitcase. On Pike's signal yellow-shirted crewmen took the bags and went on ahead.

When the formalities were over, Pike tried to get some information from Sisko in an oblique fashion. "I was kind of surprised when they said you'd be coming out here, Sir."

Sisko grunted. "Jellico had his hands full, so he asked me to come in his place. You don't know what you started with your report, Chris. Since we got the word we put out Flash signals to the entire group. Six other Connies reported Klingon ships in their AORs, and three more reported intermittent contacts with what may or may not have been _Kahless_ cruisers. This has gone all the way up to the World Command Authority. The Klingon Ambassador was summoned to the President's Office, and our Ambassador was called in to see the Emperor. Jesus! What are you people doing out here?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, Sir." Pike said as they got into the turbolift.

"When I detached your ship to work on this project I was told it was going to be a milk run. You ferry a bunch of scientists on a field trip around the galaxy until they get their own ships or until everybody gets bored of the concept, right?"

"That was the plan, Yes, Sir."

"And the first system you get to you nuke a planet!"

"Sir, as I explained in my report…"

"I read the report, Chris! It reads like bad science fiction!"

Pike sighed. "All Command Deck." He said, getting the lift moving.

"And now this!" Sisko went on. "What were you thinking?"

"Well, from what you just told me it looks like the Klingons have a major reconnaissance operation going on, centered on the Deep Recon Group. It isn't just us."

"No, it's not, but no one else went out of their way to splash a Raptor!"

"Sir, neither did we, as I'm sure will be borne out in the hearing."

"Who's running the investigation?"

"My XO, Commander McDonald."

The lift stopped on the Command Deck and Pike led the others out. "I want to see her ASAP." Sisko said.

"Aye Aye, Sir." Pike said.

"I assume my pilot's on restriction?" Captain McAllister said.

"As per standard procedure. Admiral, Captain Koloth asked to be allowed to observe how we handle this when this first happened."

"What did you tell him?"

"Didn't say yes or no. I had planned to string him along at first, then when we had to call you in I thought I'd run it by you."

"Do we need anything from the Klingons?"

"We were monitoring their communications with the Raptor. McDonald thinks we have a handle on what happened, but she and my ChEng would like to get their hands on the Raptor's flight recorder."

"Did they recover it?"

"We think it finally surfaced by the end of that day, but we'd left the crash site to the Klingons by then, and they've been stringing _us_ along since then."

"That data is their price of admission into the gallery at the hearing. I'll tell them myself."

"Aye, Sir. Here we are."

They had stopped in front of a four-man stateroom. Ironside recognized the cabin immediately. "Isn't this where your Ops guys bunk?"

* * *

"This is such _bull_." Flores said. "I finally get used to that half-cushioned cot Starfleet calls a bed and I have to give it up to one of those witch-hunters."

She was sitting on one of the beds in Sick Bay, voicing her frustrations to Dr. Boyce. He had offered to let her stay there as long as there were no major Medical Emergencies. "There's always this kind of displacement when a flag officer comes aboard." Boyce said. "The irony here is that if Commander Montoya weren't confined to her quarters she'd probably be down here with you."

"That's what else is bull, treating Belle like she had anything to do with this when anybody with half a brain could tell you it was all that lunatic Silas's fault."

"'That lunatic Silas'? I thought you liked Commander Silas."

"I did! I still do. I just didn't know she was gonna go nuts."

"I'm sure she didn't go nuts, and whatever happened this will be settled in a day or two. Admiral Sisko and the others will be gone and you'll be back in your own half-cushioned cot soon after that."

"Or back on Earth."

"Are you planning on leaving us?"

"Of course not! Look, hasn't it occurred to you that somebody might use this as a reason to call off the Project?"

"It has, but it also occurs to me that Admiral Jellico would do his best to make sure that wouldn't happen, which is probably part of what's keeping him on Earth. I don't doubt the Project will go on. The real concern here is who'll be running our part of it."

"All I know is I hope it's not me! I'm getting migraines just running the Science Department while Belle is locked up."

"Why didn't you come see me?"

"_Rhetorical_ migraines, Doctor."

Boyce chuckled. "I have cures for those, too. What's your biggest headache?"

"The fact that we can't do any close observation of Shiva Three since Captain Pike suspended our flight schedule."

"Surely you can do some observation using the ship's instruments…"

"Not the type of observation we'd like. The idea is to get as close to the ground as possible even if we can't land. Scanning from synchronous orbit only gives you the broad picture. The flights gave us more details…"

"Like confirming the presence of whales."

"Just like that. I'm dying to know what effect all of this is having on the pod of the one that died, but there's no way I can see that from up here."

Boyce thought about it for a moment. "Like I said, Gwendolyn. Two days, three at the most, and you'll be back to doing what you came out here to do. You and Isabel."

"You promise?"

"Hey, I'm your doctor, which means I'm always right."

* * *

Koloth was up late that night, staying awake with the dual stimuli of _raktijino_ and aggravation. He was in his quarters, staring at the intelligence file on Rear Admiral Benjamin Sisko. He'd had no way of knowing if the dark-skinned Human was one of the people transferred to _Enterprise_ from _Trailblazer_ until the man contacted him soon after the transfer, but it made sense. The Pathfinder was formidable enough on its own, so the only reason she would need escorts would be if there were another high value target riding in her, and there were few things more valuable to Starfleet than their fleet commanders. Also, until recently _Enterprise_ had been part of Sisko's fleet, so it was logical to assume that Sisko was the superior Pike had contacted.

So now Koloth had a small task force to deal with, one that could be greatly reinforced as quickly as Sisko could shout for help. And _Martok_? His ship was on its own. The response he'd gotten from First Armada Command had been as confusing as it was frustrating. The other ships of the Observation Force were being recalled, which meant his mission was effectively over, but he had been ordered to remain in the Shiva system to guarantee a "Klingon Presence" in the Humans' investigation. Of course, the volatility of the current situation made it impossible to overtly _strengthen_ that presence, so he would have to make do with the assets he had should there be any other "negative" developments.

Koloth grunted. _It would be easier if I could just blast them and get it over with!_ If he laid on the attack quickly enough and made the first salvo a sizable one he could destroy the frigates outright and damage _Enterprise_ and _Trailblazer_ enough to blunt any serious counterattack. Not enough to prevent his eventual destruction, but delay it at least, and at any rate going to Paradise in a glorious blaze would be preferable to the current situation.

His musings were interrupted by someone pounding on his door. "Enter!"

The door opened to admit Jhang. "The engineers have recovered the data."

"Finally!" Koloth was relieved. He hadn't believed they would get any of the data in his lifetime. No one aboard had ever seen a data recorder that had taken so much damage. The things were meant to survive catastrophes, after all, but the Raptor's impact and the time the recorder spent in Shiva Three's waters had taken a severe toll. "Have you seen it?"

"Yes, I have." Jhang held out a palm computer.

Koloth put down the one he was looking at and took the other one. "What am I seeing?"

"The recording is paused at the beginning of the engagement, when the Cavalier began evasive maneuvers."

Koloth touched the "Play" and "Advance" contacts and watched the playback at high speed. Most of the data coincided with what he remembered seeing in the Control Room. There was nothing that looked out of the ordinary, so he was about to tell Jhang what their next course of action would be when he did spot an anomaly. He paused the recording, reversed it, then paused again. He cursed at what he saw. "I'm surrounded by _incompetents_!"

"That's what the engineers thought you would say."

Koloth ignored the jibe. "He _cloaked_! I told him not to cloak! I gave specific orders to every pilot aboard not to cloak, and this ignorant _patahk_ did it anyway!"

"If the Humans find out about this…"

"They want the data in exchange for letting us attend their formal proceedings on this matter. We'll give it to them."

"Should we alter the data?"

"Don't bother. I'm sure they already suspect that Toro cloaked and want the data to confirm it. If the data contradicts their findings they won't believe it. They'll just keep looking until they find something that makes sense to them. Send it to them as it appears."

"And if they ask if you ordered Toro to cloak his ship?"

"I will say I gave no specific order either way. It's the easier lie. More importantly, it's the one they're more likely to believe."

"Well, if we're not going to bother hiding this information from them, then why do we care if we can attend the proceedings? We already know what the outcome will be."

Koloth tossed the palm computer down in disgust. "The outcome was never my greatest concern. I want to see the people _facing_ it. I want to look them in the eyes, and if I can't do that in my brig on my ship, I _will_ do it at that hearing on theirs."

Jhang bowed and saluted, then left Koloth alone with his thoughts. They darkened immediately as they turned to politics, intrigue and the variables involved in fighting a "Bloodless" War.

_So much easier to just blast them!_


	5. Act Four

**DISCLAIMER:** _Star Trek and all related characters are the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc. and CBS-Paramount Television. No copyright infringement is intended. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. The original characters and events are the sole property of the author and may not be used without permission._

**STAR TREK:**

**THE CAVALIER INCIDENT**

**By Darrin Colbourne**

* * *

Klingon transports were too large to fit through the _Enterprise_'s airlock doors, so a Workhorse was sent to _Martok _to retrieve Koloth and his party. As arranged, there was no one aboard the transport but the flight crew, who were both unarmed, and it was expected to return with no one else but the flight crew, Koloth and two of his officers. The Klingons were to be similarly unarmed. The transport would be escorted both ways by two heavily armed Cavaliers from the _Trailblazer_'s smallcraft group. If the Workhorse deviated in any way from its pre-arranged flight path on the return trip, the Cavaliers would blow it out of the stars.

Fortunately the transport returned without incident. Pike was waiting in the Hangar Deck for its arrival. This time he was wearing his Dress Black uniform. So were the Landers he had stationed on either side of the access hatch. The Landers were also armed with combat rifles, which they held at Port Arms. They all waited patiently until the access hatch opened, but the patient façade hid a tension no one dared admit to.

All too soon the hatch opened and the Klingons stepped through. Flight Ops announced: "_Martok,_ Arriving."

Pike could see the Klingons had chosen to wear their version of dress uniform, though that consisted of little more than the black fatigue pants and boots they always wore and a ceremonial leather vest that reached down to their knees. Each vest was decorated with blood red Klingon script that spelled out in large characters each man's name, father and armada. The markings on the vests were more than overshadowed by the tattoos on the wearers' arms. Each right arm displayed the various ratings and ranks the man had achieved throughout his military career. Each left arm bore his combat decorations. Only Koloth was marked with the tattoo that symbolized the Klingon equivalent of Pike's rank insignia, and his left arm was near buried in awards. Pike also took a moment to note that at just over seven feet tall and at what looked like well over three hundred pounds of lean muscle, Koloth was the _runt_ of the trio. "Permission to come aboard, Captain?" He bellowed with a friendly grin.

Pike grinned right back as he went to greet them. "Permission granted. Welcome aboard the _Enterprise_." They shook hands in the Klingon way, clasping wrists. Pike tried hard not to wince under Koloth's grip, while Koloth forced himself not to roll his eyes at Pike's feeble attempt to reciprocate.

When they broke Koloth introduced his companions. "This is my First Officer, Jhang," he said of the giant to his left, "and this is my Chief Guardsmen, Rogo." This was the bigger giant on the right.

Pike shook hands with each man in turn, then turned to lead them to the lift. "If you gentlemen will follow me…"

As they walked, Koloth noted the ranks of Landers that were flanking them. "_Two_ platoons of Landers!"

Pike put on a wide grin. "An honor guard."

Koloth grinned back. "I'm flattered."

Pike nodded. It was then that he noticed the hilt of the dagger in Koloth's belt. From head-on it was hidden by the vest. He cocked an eyebrow at Koloth. "A weapon?"

Koloth glanced at the dagger, then offered a fang-bearing grin to Pike. "Ceremonial. Came with the command."

"Impressive."

"Thank you."

"I'm going to have leave you when we get to where we've set up for the hearing. I'll be along later. You'll understand after it gets started."

"That 'complication' we discussed the other day?"

"The very same."

* * *

The Officer's Mess was cleared and set up for the hearing. As the dignitaries and observers gathered there, two of the principle witnesses were waiting in the Wardroom across the passageway. Chief Engineer Adams was sitting in his usual seat, busying himself with something on a datapad. Science Officer Montoya couldn't sit still, so she tried to pace, and silently cursed the small amount of pacing room the Wardroom offered. They were both wearing their Dress Black uniforms, as was anyone else involved in the proceeding. Montoya hated the uniform. It felt like a suit, something she only wore when she spoke at symposiums, an activity she always dreaded.

Adams watched her out of the corner of his eye, but never looked up from his 'pad. "You're getting yourself worked up over nothing." He said to her.

"Easy for you to say." She said. "You're not on trial."

"See? That's what I mean. _No one's _on trial. Not even Silas."

"Everybody keeps telling me that, but no matter what you call it, it feels very much like we're both on trial."

"Believe me, Isabel. If you were being tried for anything you'd know the difference."

She turned to say something to him, but Pike almost ran into her as he entered the Wardroom. "Sorry, Montoya. Well, I just delivered our special guests to the hearing room."

That made Adams look up. "What are they like?"

"Oh, big bastards, lotsa tattoos, handshakes like old-time longshoremen. The usual."

Montoya stared at Pike. "How can you be so blasé about all this?"

Pike shrugged. "I've met Klingons in person before."

"I mean everything! Aren't you worried at all about what might happen to you if they find Brigid guilty of something? And if you say 'It's not a trial' I'll hurt you, and thanks to Sgt. Larkin I know just how to do it!"

Pike's eyebrows went up. He glanced at Adams, who offered him a shrug and a half-smile and then went back to his 'pad.

He turned back to Montoya. "Commander, I'm not worried because I know exactly what I was doing and what I wasn't doing in the Control Room when the mishap occurred, and I'm not worried about Commander Silas because I'm sure she knew exactly what she was doing in that cockpit. So what's bothering you?"

Montoya looked away for a second. "Maybe it's because I have no idea what was going on in either place. I was in the cockpit with Brigid and I still don't really understand what happened. I keep going over it in my mind, wondering if there was something I could have done to prevent that Klingon's death…"

"And what could you have done?"

"I could have ordered her to stop before it got out of hand."

"So could I. I didn't because I didn't foresee it getting out of hand, and as far as I'm concerned it _didn't _get out of hand."

"The Klingon pilot might disagree with you."

"He might, but that's not my lookout. I can only go by how I saw the situation."

Montoya just looked at Pike for a few seconds. There was a hint of that look she gave him the day they met. "You have no idea how frustrating it is to talk to you people sometimes." With that she went back to pacing.

Pike just looked over at Adams, who shook his head and checked his watch. "They should be getting started about now…"

* * *

About twenty off-duty crewmembers showed up to sit in the gallery for the hearing. The proceeding was also being televised on ShipNet so that anyone aboard could watch on their desk computers or datapads. Part of the front row of the gallery had been reserved for the Klingons. Naturally, anyone who wanted a good view avoided sitting behind them.

The gallery faced a table covered with a white cloth and with three chairs set on the opposite side, one more chair set on the end to the gallery's right and another set a ways from the opposite end. Behind the table were three poles bearing the flags of United Earth, the Starfleet and the Landing Force. Set on the table in front of the middle chair were a small wooden gavel and pounding block. These were for Admiral Sisko, who would preside over the hearing.

Centered between the gallery and the table was a single chair. This was reserved for Commander Silas, who was escorted in by a Lander after the gallery had settled in. The Klingons paid special attention to her as she entered and sat down. Koloth grimaced. A female, one of those tiny ones that Human males seemed to find so attractive, the kind that had to compensate for their lack of real strength by operating powerful machines like tactical craft. There seemed to be an overabundance of such women in Starfleet. Fortunately it was one weakness the Armada didn't have. A proper Klingon woman would be embarrassed to be so slight of stature. _So this was who Toro had matched himself against._ The golden-haired officer deftly avoided making eye contact with Koloth. He took this philosophically. He didn't expect her to be easily intimidated - despite her physical appearance - and he had plenty of time to try again.

A few seconds after Silas arrived a female crewman entered carrying a data slate. She was the clerk assigned to record the proceeding. She took the chair set aside on the gallery's left and set up a portable stand for the slate.

When he saw the clerk was ready, the Lander who'd escorted Silas in took station beside the door and called the gathering to attention: "Hear ye, Hear ye! This hearing is now in session, Admiral Benjamin Sisko presiding! Let all who have business before the Board stand and be recognized! Attention On Deck!"

Everyone rose at once. Silas and the other Starfleeters in the room came to full attention. The Klingons stood At Ease, a calculated move to demonstrate that their recognition of the Board's authority only went so far.

The Board of Inquiry entered the room as they would be seated: Captain McAllister first, then Admiral Sisko, then Captain Ironside. They were followed by Commander McDonald, present as the investigating officer. The presiding officers took their places at the table, while McDonald stood to McAllister's right. When he was settled in, Sisko picked up the gavel and banged it once. "Commander Silas, stand fast," he said, "the rest of you may be seated."

Silas remained at attention as the gallery sat down. When everyone was settled Sisko addressed her: "Lieutenant Commander Brigid Silas, this board has been convened to investigate your actions on the day of 4th November, 2266. I'm obliged to tell you that the purpose of the investigation is to determine whether disciplinary measures against you are warranted as a consequence of those actions, but that as of right now you have not been formally charged with any crime. That means this is not the time or place for you to mount a defense. That will only be necessary if this board determines that you should be charged with a crime and bound over for court martial. Do you understand what I've just told you?"

"Yes, Sir." Silas said. "I understand."

Sisko nodded. "Commander McDonald, you may begin."

"Aye, Sir." McDonald said. She approached Silas. "Commander, please raise your right hand." When Silas complied: "Do you swear that the testimony you are about to give is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do." Silas said.

"Please be seated. Admiral, I'd like to begin by having Commander Silas tell us what happened on the day in question in her own words…"

* * *

It took considerable effort, but Pike and Adams eventually managed to get Montoya to sit down. Getting her to sit still was another matter. She fidgeted, drummed her fingers on the table and looked expectantly at the door, sometimes all at once. Every now and then she would look at the Wardroom monitor. "Is there any reason we can't just turn that on, switch to ShipNet and see what's happening in there?" She asked at one point.

"Several reasons, actually…" Pike said.

"Which is why I had it shut off when I found out they were going to keep the witnesses in here." Adams said.

"How very thorough…" Montoya muttered.

"Look, what do we have to tell you to get you to _relax_? You're so worried about being found guilty of something you're going to go in there looking like you committed high treason!"

"Isabel," Pike said, "there's nothing to this. You're going to go in there, Number One's going to ask you a few questions, Admiral Sisko and the others will ask some questions, and then you'll sit in the gallery and watch the rest of it with everybody else. Just answer the questions truthfully and there won't be any problems."

"And what if I'm not sure what the truth is?"

"There's nothing wrong with answering 'I don't know' when it's appropriate."

Montoya thought about that for a moment. She turned back to say something else to Pike, but before she could get it out there were a couple of taps on the door. It slid open and admitted the Lander from the hearing. "Commander Montoya," he said, "they're ready for you."

Montoya looked at Pike and Adams one last time, then stood, adjusted her jacket and took a deep breath. Then she followed the Lander out of the Wardroom.

After the door was closed Adams turned to Pike. "What do you think she'll do?"

Pike shrugged. "She'll tell the truth. That's all we need her to do."

* * *

Montoya's heart was thumping all the way across the corridor and into the hearing room, making a trip that only lasted a few seconds feel like walking the last mile. She did her best to maintain her composure as she walked over to the empty chair by the table - the Witness Stand - and stood in front of it. She reminded herself to stand at attention, and further admonished herself to remember that that meant keeping her hands at her sides.

Commander McDonald came over to her. "Raise your right hand, please." She said. Montoya complied. "Do you swear that the testimony you are about to give is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do." Montoya said.

"Please be seated." Montoya complied. "Please state your full name, rank and posting for the record."

"Isabel Montoya, Lieutenant Commander, Science Officer, USS _Enterprise_."

"Commander Montoya, in her testimony Commander Silas told us that you were serving as her Weapons Systems Officer on the mission she was flying when the mishap occurred. Is that correct?"

"Well, yes, but I wasn't there to turn on any weapons. The whole point of the flight…"

"A simple 'Yes' or 'No' will suffice, Commander."

"Yes, it's correct."

"Please tell us in your own words what happened during the mission."

"Well, Brigid…_Commander Silas_ and I were descending to Shiva Three to observe the native aquatic life from the air. We had only been in clear air for a few minutes when we detected a scanner lock. It turned out to be a Klingon Raptor targeting us."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing, at first. I turned off the alarm that tells you when you're being targeted and I told Commander Silas about the Raptor. She rocked the Cavalier to let the Klingon know we knew he was there, then he descended to our altitude and waved to us. I waved back."

"Why?"

"Commander Silas said that's what you're supposed to do. It's what we did the first time we went down to the planet and saw a Raptor."

McDonald checked the 'pad she was holding. "That would be during your sortie of 1st November, would it not?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"Commander Silas testified that you encountered the same Raptor both times. Is that correct?"

Montoya thought about it for a moment. "I honestly don't know. I can barely tell one Starfleet ship from another. I wouldn't know what to look for to identify a specific Raptor."

McDonald offered a small smile. "Of course. Please continue. What happened after you waved?"

Montoya risked a glance at Silas. Their eyes met, but Silas was sitting perfectly erect and still, and nothing in her body language gave Montoya any clue as to what she should say.

She turned her attention back to McDonald. "Well, after we waved, Commander Silas dove to the planet, and the Klingon started to chase us. We flew North, I think, and we were traveling at Mach numbers. I assume the Raptor was right behind us."

"You assume? Didn't you know? You were operating Rider One's sensors."

"I've only had a few days' instruction on the systems, and at the time I was more concerned with getting Commander Silas to stop than I was with tracking our pursuer."

"Why did you want her to stop?"

Montoya glanced at Silas again. Still no hints. She turned back to McDonald. "Because I was afraid that something like what happened would happen."

"You were worried someone might get hurt."

"Yes, I was."

"Please continue."

"There isn't much to tell after that. We flew around for a while, the Klingon chased us and at one point the ship told us he went into orbit and was going to intercept us on his return. Commander Silas flew to a spot somewhere in our intended patrol area and pointed the Cavalier toward the sky. She asked me to give her control of the active sensors so she could target the Raptor."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

A pause. "I thought the situation couldn't get any worse."

"Did she target the Raptor?"

"She tried to, but nothing happened. She thought the Raptor might have cloaked."

"Did you try to confirm that?"

"She did. She asked the ship if the Raptor had cloaked, but before we could get an answer I told her about the whale."

"One of the life-forms you were observing?"

"Yes. I thought that it was going to leap into the air the way they did when we first encountered them." Another pause. "I was right."

"I see. Then what happened?"

"Commander Silas got us out of the way of the whale, then something happened to the air around it, and then…" She had to compose herself. "And then the whale was destroyed, and the Raptor crashed into the sea. We called for Search and Rescue and stayed to observe and assist if we could. Then we were called back to the ship and relieved of duty and confined to quarters."

McDonald nodded. "Thank you, Commander. Sirs?" She stood aside and Montoya turned to the officers at the table.

Captain McAllister started them off. "Commander Montoya, you said that you tried to get Commander Silas to stop what she was doing because you were worried someone would get hurt. Why didn't you simply order her to stop?"

Montoya hesitated. "I wasn't sure I had the authority to order her to stop."

"You weren't sure? Well, I suppose that's understandable, but if you were that worried why not try it and see if she complied?"

Montoya got a little defensive. "Well, if I _didn't _have the authority, what good would it have done?"

"Fair enough, but did you ever consider that if you didn't have the authority to order Commander Silas to stop, you also wouldn't have had the authority to assign her to the mission in the first place?"

Montoya was struck dumb as that simple bit of logic sank in. She turned to look at McDonald. To her credit, the Executive Officer was simply standing At Ease and watching the Board passively. There was no hint of an I-told-you-so on her face.

Montoya bowed her head for a moment, then turned back to McAllister. "No, Sir. I never considered that."

"Well then, why do you think Silas undertook the mission?"

She shrugged. "I honestly thought she was just being helpful."

"Of course she was, but wasn't she also doing her job as Smallcraft Group Commander by using the resources available to her to assist you in accomplishing your mission?"

Montoya conceded defeat. "Yes, she was."

Satisfied, McAllister sat back, signaling that she was done questioning Montoya. Captain Ironside took over. He took out a datapad and began as he scrolled down something on the screen. "Commander Montoya, I'm looking at a transcript of the communications between Rider One and _Enterprise_ on the day in question." He stopped scrolling when he found what he wanted. "Do you recall the following dialogue: 'Rider One, Prize, we read you as going evasive and accelerating through Mach Numbers. Do you require assistance, over?', 'Negative, Prize. Just giving my wingman some impromptu ACM instruction, over.', 'Roger that, Rider One. Be advised that your wingman is accelerating to overtake and that King One is also enjoying the show. Give 'em something pretty to watch, over.'"

Montoya nodded. "That was just after Commander Silas leveled off and began speeding North."

"Do you understand what the dialogue means?"

"I think so. The ship noticed that we were off course and speeding up and called to ask why, then Silas said that about ACM - I'm afraid I don't know what that means…"

"Air Combat Maneuvering."

"Oh. Well, anyway, she said that and then the ship gave her permission to continue and to give the Klingons a good show."

"Can you think of any reason why she should have been ordered to stand down?"

"Just that I thought something bad might happen."

"I understand that, but was there something specific about the situation that led you to think something bad might happen?"

"It's just…things are so tense between Humans and Klingons right now that I thought if things went too far either Commander Silas or the Raptor pilot might do something they shouldn't and someone could get hurt."

"I see. I need you to understand something, Commander. If you, as the On-scene Commander, had an assessment of the situation that conflicted with that of the Theater HQ, it was your duty to make that assessment known to Theater HQ and, if necessary, take action _yourself_ to see that the situation was resolved without incident. That means whether or not you thought you had the authority to order Silas to stand down is irrelevant. If you had information that led you to conclude that her actions would lead to an unfortunate incident, you had an _obligation_ to order her to stand down. Am I clear?"

Montoya gulped. _I'm going to jail… _"Yes, Sir. Perfectly."

"So I'll ask you again: Was there any specific thing about the situation that led you to believe that Commander Silas's actions would result in the loss of Rider One or the Klingon Raptor?"

"No, Sir. There wasn't."

Ironside glared at her a moment longer, then sat back.

Montoya dreaded what Admiral Sisko would ask her. He surprised her. "I believe we've heard what we need from this witness. Thank you, Montoya. You may step down." She nodded to him and stood up quickly, then started to walk toward the gallery, hearing McDonald call for Captain Pike as she did so. Instead of finding a seat she bypassed the gallery entirely and exited the Officer's Mess through another door. Once she was in the corridor she proceeded at a brisk trot to the nearest head. She made it just in time.

Pike's testimony was well underway when she slipped back into the hearing. She found a seat near the back of the gallery, trying to go unnoticed, but she couldn't avoid Koloth's sidelong glance. _Pathetic, _he thought. He couldn't imagine Starfleet being anywhere near so desperate for line officers that someone so useless would have been given a commission.

"When she descended to treetop level and accelerated through high Mach numbers," Pike said, "I had my Communications Officer ask Silas if she needed help. Silas responded by saying she was giving the Klingon pilot some 'ACM instruction', which I took to mean she was attempting to shake him, or at least make his job of shadowing her so tough he'd have to pack up and go home."

"And you granted her permission to do this?"

"Yes, I did."

"Why?"

"Frankly, I thought it needed to be done and decided to assist her in any way I could."

"Of course. Please continue."

"Silas proceeded North until the Raptor began to close and then stopped short, then turned Southeast when the Raptor overshot her. She continued on that course until the Raptor made a wide turn to intercept, then turned further South and transited at hypersonic speed to her patrol area. The Raptor went 'Feet Cold' when he couldn't intercept her and transited through low orbit until he reached a reentry point where he could intercept her from above. Silas anticipated the maneuver and went to a hover in a position where she could illuminate the Raptor."

"Did she illuminate him?"

"We couldn't tell from orbit, but I assume she tried to because she radioed soon after asking us to confirm whether or not the Raptor had cloaked. We were about to have her stand by for a bistatic search when she reversed at high speed from her defensive position. By the time we could figure out why she was doing it the Raptor had ditched. At that point Silas stood down from the engagement and radioed to us and the _Martok_ for Search and Rescue, then stayed on-scene to help coordinate the effort. The Klingons responded immediately and we lent assistance."

"Was the pilot recovered?"

"Unfortunately not, and when the search began to focus on finding the flight recorder we withdrew."

"Thank you, Captain." McDonald said, then turned the questioning over to the board.

"Captain Pike," McAllister said, "you said that you thought that Commander Silas's actions were warranted, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did."

"And yet you relieved her and Commander Montoya of duty and restricted them to quarters. Why?"

"It's standard procedure to stand down the flight crew in the event one of our spacecraft is involved in a flying mishap."

"And the restriction?"

"The death of an alien citizen was involved, and in this case the flight crew consisted of two of my senior officers. Some restriction was necessary pending the investigation, but I couldn't confine them in the brig without formally charging them, and at the time I saw nothing to charge them with. I still don't see anything."

"You understand, Captain, that if _we_ determine that they must be charged, as their commanding officer you would face charges as well."

Pike didn't flinch at the remark. "I understand."

Ironside took over then. "Captain, Commander Montoya testified that she was worried that Commander Silas's actions might lead to someone getting hurt. Was there any time during the engagement when you shared her concerns?"

"No, there wasn't. I had confidence in Commander Silas's skills and judgment."

"Well, Montoya was on the scene. How do you explain the discrepancy between your assessment of the situation and hers?"

"Commander Montoya has never been a tactical pilot and has never trained with tactical pilots. I would explain her assessment as that of a novice. I can understand where the engagement might have looked worrisome from her perspective, but not from mine."

"Did she make her concerns known to you at any point?"

"No, she didn't. I wasn't aware that she'd had any misgivings until just now."

"Would you have done things differently if you had known?"

"No, I wouldn't have. My assessment of the situation was based on experience Montoya doesn't have."

Then it was Admiral Sisko's turn. "What was Montoya doing in the cockpit at all if her lack of experience was an issue, Captain?"

"It _wasn't_ an issue in the beginning, Sir. It only became an issue when the Klingons showed up."

"Explain."

"When I was given this assignment I was told by Admiral Jellico to rely on my Science Officer's expertise when planning survey missions. This was meant to be just such a mission. When it was first laid on my only concern was whether we had the right resources aboard to do the type of reconnaissance flights Montoya was planning, but Silas had planned to conduct the bulk of them herself and Montoya assured me that she could get the data she needed with minimal fuss. Essentially, all she had to do was sit in the backseat and look around. She had more than enough experience to do that. Only the appearance of the Klingons gave us any pause, but the nature of the mission didn't actually change, and Silas and Montoya assured me that they could continue it with some modification to the flight schedule and by giving some rudimentary SWO training to Montoya and her deputy. Silas and _her_ deputy would actually be flying the missions, so I was confident that if anything went wrong they could handle it."

"And you think Silas lived up to your expectations in this instance?"

Pike smiled. "Yes, Sir. She's still here."

He'd made it a point not to look at the Klingons as he delivered that line. It was a good thing. The look Koloth was giving him could melt Titanium.

Sisko nodded. "Very Well. Thank you, Captain. You may step down."

"Aye, Sir." Pike stood up straight and walked toward the gallery as McDonald called Adams to the stand. Montoya expected Pike to sit somewhere in the front, but he surprised her by coming all the way back to sit next to her. "Where'd you go?" He whispered to her when he settled in. His tone was perfectly innocent.

She resisted the urge to hit him. "I just had to go. Thanks for the vote of confidence, by the way."

"My pleasure."

"You're still not worried about what will happen?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Is permanent calmness something they taught you in the Academy?"

"Not in the Academy. In Space Warfare School. It's called 'Situational Awareness', which is pilot speak for 'paying attention', and the only reason you're still worried is because you _haven't_ been paying attention."

"Then tell me what I'm missing!" She hissed.

Pike turned his attention to the Witness Stand. "Just listen to John."

Montoya just stared at him for a moment, then relented and did as he told her. McDonald was in the middle of asking Adams a question. "…and you had access to the flight data recorders of both spacecraft?"

"Yes, I did." Adams said.

"Today we've heard from Commander Silas and two other witnesses that soon after Rider One went 'Feet Hot' the Klingon Raptor shadowing the Cavalier illuminated it, Commander Silas acknowledged the 'kill', then went evasive. The Raptor pursued until he could no longer overtake or intercept the Cavalier in the atmosphere, then went into orbit, transited to a reentry point that would guarantee an intercept and reentered. Silas transited to a spot where she could intercept the Raptor and prepared to illuminate him, but was forced out of position by the actions of one of the native lifeforms. The Raptor collided with said lifeform and then was lost. Does the data confirm any of that?"

"The data from both craft confirms all of it."

"We have also heard that the Raptor cloaked at some moment near the end of its flight, but none of the witnesses were able to confirm that. Does the data confirm that as well?"

"Yes, it does." He turned to the board. "If you'll use your 'pads to access the files on ShipNet, I can talk you through the readings."

McAllister and Sisko took out their datapads. Ironside was already using his to get onto the network. When he saw they were ready, Adams took out his own and accessed the appropriate files, then slaved the other 'pads to his. "We'll start with the readings from the Raptor's flight recorder. The gauge markings have been translated into English. I'll fast-forward it to the relevant information." It took a few seconds for him to do so. "This is just a few seconds after the Raptor reentered the atmosphere for the last time."

"What are we seeing?" Sisko asked.

"In a moment you'll see a slight change in power utilization and sensor calibration and the On-Board Countermeasures indicator will toggle from 'Off' to 'On'," - a short pause - "there. In short, this shows that the Raptor cloaked almost as soon as it went into 'blackout.' The other on-board systems automatically adjusted to compensate."

"You're sure this information is accurate?" Ironside asked. "There's no way the information is incomplete or altered?"

Sisko glanced at the Klingons as Ironside said this. Jhang bristled slightly, but Koloth showed no outward sign of being insulted.

"There was some data loss due to damage," Adams said, "but nothing relevant, and we wouldn't have the information we do have if the Klingons' engineers hadn't done such a good job retrieving it. There's no sign of tampering."

McAllister spoke up next. "Is there any indication that the pilot was ordered to cloak his ship on reentry?"

"No, Sir. Up to that point the Klingons had been operating in the open. In fact, during the 1st November sortie the pilot asked the _Martok_ if he should cloak and was told to remain visible. From the data available it looks like this time he chose to cloak on his own."

"And you say that all the data is accurate? Including this velocity reading at the time he went into blackout and cloaked?"

"Yes, Sir. As I said, there's no evidence that the data's been altered. Data from _Enterprise_'s own tracking systems confirm that velocity reading."

"And he was inverted and in a nose-down attitude…was he trying to kill himself?"

"There's no way for us to know that for sure."

"Well, isn't it true that the Raptor's cloaking system will obscure the pilot's vision as it hides the ship from other observers?"

"Yes, Sir, it is. Most of the ship's tracking systems can be adjusted to operate in conjunction with the cloaking system, but for the invisibility part of the equation to work the price the pilot pays is the use of his optical systems and his own eye-view of the outside world. There would literally be nothing for him to see through his cockpit canopy, so he would be flying solely on instruments that would give him an imperfect view of his surroundings."

"So he was rocketing toward the surface with his visibility impaired by his own countermeasures, and under those conditions he would only have had seconds to pull out of the dive safely, yet-" She advanced the data further. "-he didn't actually set himself to pull up until he was almost at wavetop level. If he wasn't trying to commit suicide, what _was_ he doing?"

"I can only speculate on that, Sir."

"Do so." Sisko ordered.

"Yes, Sir. From what we can tell by comparing the data from the two tactical craft, it looks like the Raptor was trying to swamp Rider One."

Murmurs rose up from the gallery immediately upon hearing this. Sisko banged the gavel once, then turned his attention back to Adams when things quieted down. "Continue." He said.

"Yes, Sir. The Raptor was being quarterbacked throughout the engagement by its base ship, just as _Enterprise_ was quarterbacking Rider One, so it's safe to assume the pilot had a pretty good idea of where Silas would be when he reentered. His angle and speed of descent suggest that if he didn't pull up at the right moment the two ships would have collided, destroying both, but, as Captain McAllister said, he was maneuvering to pull up at wave-top level, possibly just above the Cavalier. The atmospheric effects caused by the Raptor's sudden change in trajectory would have thrown the Cavalier into the water."

"Why go through the trouble?" Ironside said. "If he'd wanted to destroy Rider One he could have done it from orbit."

"I don't think he intended to destroy Rider One. A good pilot might have been able to save the Cavalier, or at least keep it intact enough after the crash for the flight crew to survive. I think he just wanted to see how good a pilot Silas was."

"So why did he cloak?" McAllister asked.

"So no one would see it coming in time to stop him, especially Silas. By the time she'd have gotten confirmation that he'd cloaked during blackout the shockwave of his passing would have hit."

"What kept him from pulling up when he saw Rider One back off?" Sisko asked.

"Confusion. From his perspective Rider One had no reason to back off because Silas couldn't see him. The problem was there was very little he could see. He didn't know why his target was backing off and it must have puzzled him more to see an even bigger target take its place…"

"The Shivan whale."

"Yes, Sir. He spent precious seconds trying to work out what was going on, and by the time he figured it out he was already 'conflicting' with the whale, which resulted in an even more garbled sensor picture. He was essentially flying blind when he impacted."

There was more murmuring. This time Sisko silenced it with a stern look. He took the opportunity to read the Klingons' faces. Jhang and Rogo looked livid, and this time even Koloth looked less than pleased with Adams's testimony.

Sisko turned back to Adams. "So you're saying that if that whale hadn't jumped into the air when it had…"

"...we'd be fishing for Commanders Silas and Montoya down there." Adams said, finishing the thought. "Of course, it's just speculation, but it's the only conclusion that fits the data."

There was a brief pause as Sisko let that sink in, then he nodded to Adams. "Thank you, Commander. You may step down."

"Aye, Sir." Adams rose and headed toward the gallery. The Klingons glared at him as he approached, but he only raised his eyebrow at them as he passed. Moments later he was sitting next to Pike and Montoya in the back.

Sisko turned to McDonald. "Do you wish to call any other witnesses?"

"No, Sir." McDonald said.

"Very Well. We will reconvene at 1300 hours and present our findings. We're adjourned." Sisko banged the gavel one last time.

"Attention On Deck!" The Lander called out. Everyone rose again as Sisko, Ironside and McAllister left the room, then the Lander escorted Silas out. Then the clerk and McDonald filed out, followed by the members of the gallery.

Montoya left with Pike and Adams. She checked her watch as they entered the passageway. "How can they be sure they'll have a decision so soon?"

Adams shrugged. "They have everything they need to puzzle out what happened. I think Sisko's being generous with the time, personally."

"You guys want to grab something to eat?" Pike said. "We'd have to raid the Chiefs' Mess, but I'm sure they won't mind. We'll just owe them some favors."

"You two go ahead." Montoya said. Lost in thought, she headed in the opposite direction.


	6. Finale

**DISCLAIMER:** _Star Trek and all related characters are the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc. and CBS-Paramount Television. No copyright infringement is intended. This work of fiction is for entertainment purposes only and no money has changed hands. The original characters and events are the sole property of the author and may not be used without permission._

**STAR TREK:**

**THE CAVALIER INCIDENT**

**By Darrin Colbourne**

* * *

Montoya made her way to Sick Bay, where she found Lt. Flores and Dr. Boyce talking. "Belle!" Flores called when she saw her friend. "Come on in! Pull up a bed!"

Montoya smiled. "Don't mind if I do." She went over to the bed next to the one Flores was sitting on and stretched out on it with a sigh. "You spent the night here?"

"I think Iron Horse - or whatever his name is - is sleeping in my bed." Flores grumped. "I didn't want to get crammed in with our technicians down in the cargo hold so the Good Doctor was gracious enough to let me stay here. It's not nearly as bad as what they did to you, though. You must have gone stir crazy in your cabin."

"Slightly."

"I wanted to come see you, but that goon they placed outside your door wouldn't let me in."

"I know. I could hear you screaming at him. Does your mother know you use that kind of language?"

"Who do you think taught it to me?" They chuckled at that. "Well, the good news is, you're out of Solitary."

"It doesn't feel that good. Confinement was preferable to what I went through today."

"Doctor Boyce and I were watching the whole thing. You did great."

"Oh, please! It'll be a miracle if I didn't get myself and Brigid hanged. I'm such an idiot!"

"No, you're not! You're one of the smartest people I know!"

"Maybe in an academic sense. I have a Doctor of Science degree in Astrophysics and Masters level education in two related disciplines, yet every _day_ I spend on this ship I feel like my I.Q. drops ten points. I think I hit 'Moron' the day I touched the Warp-Futzers' pyramid."

It was then that she noticed Boyce had gone over to a cabinet and was fixing something. He came back over to her bed carrying a small glass filled a third of the way with amber liquid. She sat up and he handed her the glass. She took a sip, then looked at him. "I thought alcohol was illegal on Starfleet ships."

"I can use it for medicinal purposes." Boyce said with a smile. "We'll call this 'Healing a bruised ego'." She grinned at him, then took another sip as he sat on the bed next to her. "As for feeling like a moron, that's actually a common malady in this service."

"Don't tell me you've ever felt that way."

"Oh, yes. Isabel, Starfleet was created by Space Cowboys for other Space Cowboys and Cowgirls to enjoy. Serving aboard ship means you are surrounded by people who fly, fight and maintain spacecraft for a living. Some of them have been doing it for decades, and if you haven't spent a whole lot of time doing any of those things yourself it can be a bit overwhelming for you. All that's happened to you this week is that you've gotten a crash course in just how overwhelming it can be. The hearing is a prime example."

"Does it ever get better?"

"Sure. You just keep telling yourself that the cowboys are all here to do a certain job, but that's the job they were brought here to do. You're here to do _your_ job, and as long as you do it well, you have nothing to feel inadequate about."

"But I can't do my job without their help."

"In some ways the reverse is true. _Enterprise_ was sent out here to accomplish a mission, but without you there is no mission. Nothing saps crew morale faster than a lack of purpose. Your mission gives everyone that purpose."

Montoya looked at him for a moment, then smiled and turned to Flores. "You're right. He's _good_."

Flores grinned. "Toldja. And he's sure that all this is going to work out in the end."

Montoya turned back to Boyce. "Are you?"

"I'm positive." Boyce said, smiling. His smile faded when Montoya's face fell. "What's wrong?"

She turned to look at the floor. "I think I finally realized what's been worrying me. I think you may be right about how this will turn out." She took another sip of her drink, then looked at him. "I'm just not sure you should be."

* * *

Silas, the gallery and the clerk were all back in place when the Lander called the gathering to attention at precisely 1300 hours. McDonald and the board walked in and resumed their places and, once again, Sisko had Silas remain at attention while the rest of the company sat down. When everyone was settled, Sisko addressed them:

"In a state of truce, it is understood by all parties that there will always be a certain amount of hostility between the once-warring factions, and that hostility can lead to aggressive - and sometimes reckless - actions on the part of frontline forces as they interact. This has been true in the past for both the Human and Klingon races, and it is true now as both races face each other in what is essentially a Cold War. Yet even with that understanding we expect our armed servicemen to act correctly and professionally whenever they confront someone from the opposing side, lest the Cold War regress into a Shooting War. Most often our warriors live up to that expectation, but as we have seen some of them let events overtake them, and the consequences of such missteps may be dire. When such incidents occur, we can only hope that they will serve as a warning to others about the dangers of pushing the envelope to the breaking point.

"With that said, it is the finding of this Board that the loss of the Klingon Raptor was the result of Pilot Error, brought on by diminished visibility, unduly aggressive maneuvers and a collision with an airborne lifeform. We further find that Lieutenant Commander Silas acted correctly in all respects by maneuvering to evade the Raptor, thereby safeguarding her spacecraft, her superior officer and her mission. We therefore recommend that Commander Silas be returned immediately to Active Flight Status and reinstated as Smallcraft Group Commander aboard USS _Enterprise_ upon the conclusion of these proceedings. No charges will be filed against her, and no letters of reprimand will be added to her jacket." With that he raised his gavel.

Jhang was on his feet before Sisko could bring it down. "This is an outrage!" He bellowed.

The outburst drew the attention of everyone in the room. Everyone except Koloth, that is. His attention was on the Lander, who had his sidearm out and aimed right at Jhang's head. It was a stark reminder to Koloth that he and his officers were the only three Klingons in a ship full of Humans and theirs was the only Klingon warship in an orbit full of Starfleet.

Sisko addressed his response to Koloth. "You have your answer, Captain."

Koloth gave him a fang-bearing grin. "Of course, Admiral. I will relay it to my superiors, and I thank you for your prompt attention to this matter." Then he lowered his voice and gently squeezed Jhang's wrist. "There will be other battles, Commander."

Jhang glanced at him, then turned to glare at Sisko. Still, he reluctantly sat back down, allowing the Lander to holster his weapon.

When order was restored, Sisko banged the gavel and concluded the hearing. "We're done here, people."

"Attention On Deck!" The Lander called a final time. Sisko, McAllister and Ironside rose and filed out of the room, followed by McDonald and the clerk. When they were gone, the Lander called out, "As You Were!" then left as well.

That's when the cheering started. Silas was soon surrounded by grinning Starfleeters offering congratulations. Koloth and his men, not wanting to be sickened by the adulation, simply headed for the nearest exit. Just before he crossed the threshold Koloth tried one more time to catch Silas's eye. This time he was successful. She looked away from the officer she was shaking hands with in time to see Koloth looking at her. She offered him a small smile. It seemed to say "Better luck next time." He simply glared at her for a moment, then left.

Pike had caught the whole exchange as he waited his turn to shake hands with her. "I'd better get our friends back home before they break something." He said with a grin. "In the meantime you and Montoya are back on duty as of now. Good work, Commander."

"Thank you, Sir." She said, grinning back. Then Pike left, and after shaking a few more hands Silas looked around for Montoya. The Science Officer was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Koloth turned the entire confrontation over in his mind as the Starfleet transport shuttled him back to _Martok_, this time escorted by two Raptors. It had ended just as Jhang had predicted. Of course the Humans had pardoned their pilot, and Toro's actions had given them the perfect excuse to do so. Still, there was some consolation. First, Koloth had gotten what he wanted. He'd seen the faces of the Human flight crew, looked them in the eye. In Brigid Silas he'd seen what he expected to see, a woman who had probably gone through Starfleet Academy, definitely gone through their War College, and come out an officer desperate to match her skills against the Great Klingon Menace. She'd had her chance this week and triumphed, after a fashion, so she was pleased with herself at the end, though she would likely be more cautious in the future. Isabel Montoya was another matter. Obviously she had never gone to the Academy or through pilot training. She couldn't even stand at attention properly. From all outward appearances she was what she was supposed to be: a civilian scientist given a temporary rank and assigned to a warship. Then again, such appearances were perfect for hiding more sinister truths. The entire act might have been put on to disguise Montoya's true purpose aboard _Enterprise_, or Montoya might have been substituted at the hearing for whomever had _really_ been in the Cavalier's cockpit with Silas. He couldn't help but notice the looks Montoya had given Silas during her testimony. It made him wonder who this "Science Officer" was to the pilot. A friend? A subordinate? A lover? A pet? He chuckled silently at the ideas that popped into his head, and at the futility of trying to solve this little mystery himself. He had their names and their faces, and soon his commanders would have them, and soon after that the Empire's intelligence organs would be on the trail of every scrap of information they could find on Brigid Silas and Isabel Montoya. He was sure that what they turned up would be _very_ interesting, and would make the _Enterprise_ a prime target for reconnaissance as long as the two were aboard.

Further consolation came in the form of the wording of the Board's finding. Toro had killed himself by being "unduly aggressive." The thought of this made Koloth laugh out loud. When his superiors heard that line he was sure some would bristle at it, as Jhang had done, but most would simply accept it for what it was: Human posturing. No one would seriously condemn Toro for doing what he was trained to do. After all, what Humans called a "Cold War" was still a _war_, and they knew it, and in a war there was no such thing as being "unduly aggressive" with your enemies. By way of excusing their officer the Humans had also declared that Toro had acted correctly, which meant that he would likely receive a posthumous advance in rank and a hero's honors. The victory he'd helped the Empire achieve was small in the grand scheme of things - a few intelligence gains - but worthy of his sacrifice nonetheless.

* * *

_Martok_ departed soon after Koloth returned. Sisko, McAllister and Ironside returned to _Trailblazer_ when the Klingons warped out of the system and the cruiser and her escorts warped out soon after that, leaving _Enterprise_ alone in orbit around Shiva Three once more. As the Science Department's officers moved back into their quarters and the Officer's Mess was restored to its original state, life aboard the starship slowly got back to normal.

It was a half-hour before Midwatch that night before Silas saw Montoya again. Silas was reading in her bunk when one of her roommates came in. "I passed Montoya on the way here." He said. "She asked if you were in here."

Silas got up immediately. "Could you give us a minute alone?"

The officer smiled as he grabbed a datapad from his own bunk. "I just came to get this." He went right back out the door. "Go on in." He said to someone just outside. A second later Montoya came in.

Silas smiled wide. "Hey," She said.

Montoya smiled back. "Hey. I was hoping we could talk."

"Sure. Have a seat."

"Oh, no, that's not necessary. This won't take long, and I have to get ready to go on watch anyway."

"Oh…okay. I didn't see you come back to the hearing."

"I asked Commander McDonald if it was all right if I didn't come back. She said that she didn't expect me to be called to testify again, so it was okay. I watched it with Wendy. Really, I just wanted to get out of that dress uniform."

Silas grinned. "I know how you feel. I changed back to Colors as soon as I got back here. 'Course for me it's the same color…" It wasn't that funny, but they both chuckled to relieve some of the tension. When they recovered, Silas said: "Captain Pike said we're back on duty."

"I know. He told me."

"Oh. So…what did you want to talk about?"

"Something's been bothering me. Everything that's said between the Cavalier and the ship is recorded in the flight recorder, right?"

"Right."

"What about what's said _in_ the cockpit, what we say to each other over the helmet radios?"

Silas nodded. "That too. All transmissions are recorded and stored in the flight recorder…but if it's your privacy you're worried about, no one ever hears that stuff except in extreme circumstances."

"Like a mishap investigation?"

Silas chuckled. "Okay, yes, like a mishap investigation. Why?"

"I was just wondering if they heard everything that was recorded?"

"Everything relevant, sure."

"Everything _relevant_? Why not just 'everything'?"

"In this case they didn't need to hear everything. Just what transpired during the engagement. Look, Isabel…"

Montoya took out a 'pad. "I'm concerned about something you said _before_ the engagement. I looked at the voice transcripts, but the only reference that corresponds is labeled 'inaudible', but I know I heard you say it."

"Heard me say what?"

"'A-M-F.'"

There was a silent pause between them, then Silas chuckled. "Okay, so?"

"I know what that means."

"Okay, so we can both curse in English and Spanish. I don't see…"

"It just seems to be an odd thing to say if Admiral Sisko was right and all you were doing was defending yourself and me."

"Well, what _should_ I have said?"

"I honestly don't know, but saying that makes it seem almost like you were trying to get rid of him."

"I _was_ trying to get rid of him!"

"I don't mean evading him, I mean…you asked me to turn on the active sensors. How do I know you weren't planning to shoot the Raptor down?"

"I _couldn't_ shoot him down without arming the missiles I was carrying. _You_ would have had to arm them!"

"Well, even if that were true…"

"Whaddya mean '_if_ that were true'! So now you think I'm lying?"

"_I don't know, Brigid!_ I don't know whether you're lying or not, and there's no way for me to be sure because I don't know anything about starships or Cavaliers or Raptors or anything else about your world!" She forced herself to calm down. "I want to know, I just don't."

"Well, how can I help you, Isabel?"

"Tell me that if Admiral Sisko and the others had heard what you said they'd have come to the same conclusion."

"Of course they would have! Why would what I said have had any more bearing on the decision than all the other evidence?"

"Sisko said the Klingon was 'unduly aggressive'. I think what you said would indicate some aggression on your part."

"Isabel, it was _trash talk_! You must have heard of it! It's only been around since the Dawn of Man! I'm sure that the Board would have given it all of five seconds worth of attention!"

"I would be more than happy to accept it as trash talk if it weren't for the fact the 'M-F' - as you called him - is now _dead_, along with an innocent creature whose only crime was getting in the middle of some alien pissing contest, and I would simply feel better if I could know for sure that you - that _we_ truly had nothing to do with either death."

"You're being impossible! You're asking me to give you perfect clarity! There's no way I can do that!"

"I'm not _asking_. Find a way." She tried her best to make it sound like an order.

Silas just looked at her, then she turned around, thought for a moment and ran her hand through her hair. When she turned back she grabbed Montoya by the shoulders and looked her straight in the eye.

"Okay, Isabel. I can't make it any clearer than this. Here's what you have to believe if you insist on thinking that I intended to kill the Klingon: You have to believe that I'm so great at reading alien species that I'm practically psychic. You have to believe that I knew exactly what that Klingon _and_ what that whale would do and when they would do it, which is what I'd have had to know in order to guarantee that the Klingon would execute the maneuvers he did and ultimately put himself in a position where I could use the whale to both decoy him and cause him to crash. And then you have to believe that my mental powers are so vast that I clouded the minds of everyone else involved, so that when the inevitable investigation was conducted I would be absolved of any guilt in the Klingon's death, thereby guaranteeing that even though I just committed an act of war, the Klingons would have no legitimate reason to retaliate against United Earth. And then, on top of all this, you have to believe that out of the five starships full of people from two different civilizations that have been in Shivan orbit for the past two days the only person that has any idea what I've actually done is _you_." Silas gave Montoya a moment to digest all that. "_That's_ what you have to believe, if you refuse to believe what's been determined, which is that the Klingon got pushy, we rough-housed a little, he pushed too far and paid for it. And as for the whale - stuff happens, no matter what planet you're on."

There was a note of cynicism in her voice, but the look in Silas's eyes was what truly bothered Montoya. It was because the look told her truths that Silas would never voice: That she didn't have to be psychic to see patterns in the Klingon's tactics that would have let her predict his every move; that all that she'd need to predict the whale's movement was to recognize signs that Montoya had missed when they first observed them; that it was entirely possible that everyone else involved, Klingon and Human alike, knew exactly what she'd done and the whole hearing was a farce that would allow both sides to settle the matter without further bloodshed; and that, far from being the only one to figure it all out, Montoya was simply the last to know.

They stood there staring at each other until Montoya couldn't stand it anymore. She put on a weak smile. "Then I guess I'll just have to accept the finding," she said. "It was a mishap. Nothing more."

Silas bowed her head and let go of Montoya's shoulders. She let out a sigh of relief, and when she looked up again she had a genuine smile on her face. She reached out and lightly brushed Montoya's chin with her fingertip. "Smart Girl." She said softly, then she turned back to her bunk. "Y'know, with the Klingons gone and everything back to normal the third time ought to be the charm. Want to try another flight tomorrow?"

Montoya hesitated, weighing her answer. "Actually, I was thinking of having Wendy take over the Shiva away missions. I'm going to be spending more time in the Control Room working with Number One. She said she'd help me develop more of a Command Sense."

Silas smirked. "That's probably a good idea. Another time, then?"

"Another time." Montoya said. She spent another second just watching Silas's back, then she left the stateroom. As she made her way through _Enterprise_'s corridors she tried to keep one thing in mind:

_Brigid's here to do her job and I'm here to do mine. I just have to concentrate on doing my job._

It wasn't very comforting, but it helped.


End file.
